


Puncture

by StarSpangledBucky



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Ant-Man (2015), Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 80s Music, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Poisoning, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And Old Timey Movies, Angst, Anxiety, Anything 80s He Likes, Barebacking, Bartender Bucky, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bros Being Bros And Having Football Game Nights, Bros Being Bros And Having Saturday Dinners Together, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bullying, Coffee Shops, Dancing, Doctor Steve Rogers, Doctor/Patient, Eventual First Avenger Bucky ish, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fancy Dress Party, First Dates, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Flashbacks to Highschool, Flirting, Fluff, Gifts, Graphic War Flashbacks, Grinding, Hand Jobs, He Blames Peter Quill, Homophobic Language (brief), Hospitalization, Hospitals, Karaoke, Kissing in the Rain, Lots Of Medical Terms, Love Confessions, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Neck Kissing, Nipple Piercings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Party, Past Abuse, Past Character Death/s, Past Highschool Crush, Piercings, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pregnant Natasha, Rejection, Showers, Singing, Singing in the Rain, Slow Dancing, Smut in Chapters 4 and 5, Steve Feels, Steve Really Likes ABBA and Footloose and Dirty Dancing, Steve's A Flirt When He's Had Alcohol, Steve's Friends Are Little Shits, Suicidal Thoughts Mentioned, Suicide Attempt, Surprise Kissing, Tap Dancing In The Rain, Tattoos, They Don't Intend To Get Together, Tongue Piercings, Tony Being Tony, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers, Trauma, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, bearded steve, not a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/StarSpangledBucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What starts off as a quiet night in the ER for Steve Rogers, turns into a race against time to save the life of a ghost from his past. Yet what surprises him the most is how one person can break his entire professional attitude and turn it into panic. It just so turns out, Bucky Barnes' life story holds a lot more than Steve expected.</p><p>"What could you possibly offer me after everything I did to you?"</p><p>"How about a friend?"</p><p>They don't expect to fall in love along the way either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Five Minutes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> For kalika_999 who wrote 16 Hours for me and has been a very good friend when it comes to talking about fan fiction and all sorts. You're a wonderful person my dear. Happy belated Birthday XD.
> 
> Thanks to my beta-reader also CumberRachel you're a gem <3
> 
> (Hospital name is fictional)

** **

**Griffin Community Hospital, Brooklyn**

**Friday 17th July 9pm**

  
It was too quiet for a Friday night at the Griffin Community Hospital in Brooklyn.  _Too_  quiet for Steve, he'd expected to be seeing people coming in from nights out on the town with sprained ankles, fight injuries or on the odd occasion, the drunk and disorderly. Ever since he was fifteen, Steve wanted to help people, and set about becoming a doctor. Yet considering his own list of health issues at that time, his future in the medical department looked bleak. He had to be fast and aware the entire time when a medical emergency came into play.

But as he grew up into his mid-twenties, Steve's asthma began to become less frequent, he shaped up, grew taller and it seemed that his goal of becoming a doctor could be achieved after all. He'd spent three years as an ER doctor in a London hospital before deciding to move back to Brooklyn and take up a job at GCH. Steve was highly recommended by all staff and the Chief of Staff, Peggy Carter after he worked long hours during a serious car accident which had the ER filled to the brim with patients.

Throughout his career Steve experienced the highs and lows of being a doctor, the lives he saved, the lives he couldn't, the strange, the ugly and just plain ridiculous. A wall built itself around him to prevent himself from breaking down after the loss of life, only just last week a sixteen year old was in the ER from multiple gun shot wounds.

Sadly, he'd lost too much blood and passed away shortly after they'd stabilised him. Steve's co-workers could see the look of sadness and defeat on his face, but he had kept himself together and didn't falter for a second. It was simply his job and he had to take the good with the bad and keep on going. Steve looked down at his watch and sighed, it had just hit 9pm and he'd already finished his regular rounds with other patients. He could do paperwork but he preferred to be at home where he was relaxed and focused on it.

"Bit boring tonight huh Steve?" a voice chimed, from beside him.

Steve turned his head to the side and saw the receptionist Bruce Banner sit down on the chair, a stack of folders in his hands.

"Too quiet for a Friday Bruce," he replied.

Bruce smiled softly.

"Done all your regular rounds?" he questioned.

"Yep," Steve answered, popping the  _'P'_. "Seen to Mrs Paterson in room twelve with her hip surgery. I checked up on one of the kids who came in with glandular fever. Then went to see Mr Deschamps over in the burns unit," he added.

"Is he still glad you speak fluent French?" Bruce hummed.

"Very, he's getting there with his English, but he's still having trouble understanding Stark most of the time," Steve answered.

"Who doesn't," Bruce chided.

Steve laughed and crossed his arms over his chest, breathing out a sigh.

"I'm telling him you said that," he mused.

"Go for your life, he'll get stubborn with me then forgive me later," Bruce scoffed.

"You two still going on your date on Sunday?" he queried.

"It's  _not_  a date," Bruce huffed.

"That's what they all say," Steve jeered.

"You're unbelievable," the brunette rebuked.

"It's definitely a date," Steve crowed.

"No, Steve," Bruce grunted.

The blonde lent over and picked up a piece of card that was sitting on the desk near Bruce, a small smirk curving at the corner of his mouth.

"Dear Brucie, I'm looking forward to Sunday night. Please wear something that's easy to get you out of. Love Tony," he recited. "Oh yeah, totally not a date," he continued, throwing the card back at Bruce.

"I don't like you," he grumbled, earning a small pout from Steve.

He scrubbed his hand over the light scruff on his face, feeling the jagged hairs graze his skin. Steve didn't shave often because he didn't have the time on account of having to sleep before work and also not having much time _because_ of work. He'd have to shave one of these days, before he got called up to Peggy's office. Not that they really saw much of her anyway, she was a busy woman. 

"Any idea where Tony and Sam are?" Steve asked.

The sound of laughter echoed down the hallway and Steve raised an eyebrow, only to see Tony Stark and Sam Wilson appear. He'd worked with them for two out of the four years that he'd been at GCH. They proved to be valuable assistants and worked well with Steve when needed.

"What are you two laughing about now?" he chuckled.

"Just this story Sam was telling me," Tony responded, wiping the corner of his eyes to wipe away tears.

"Seems like it was a good one," Bruce interjected.

"It was a classic," Tony huffed out, with a smile.

Steve coughed.

"Lovebirds," he muttered.

"Jealous?" Tony tested, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh not at all, you know me, I'm married to my work," he issued.

"Alright Sherlock Holmes," Sam added.

"Bite me Sam..." Steve rebuked.

Suddenly, without warning, the heavy doors slammed open with raised voices and what sounded like a delirious voice. Steve was on his feet within seconds and rushing out of the reception area, Tony and Sam close behind. James Rhodes and Scott Lang were the two paramedics on duty that night, looking exhausted as usual.

"What have we got?" Steve called.

"Twenty six year old, male, says his name is James Buchanan Barnes. Was found passed out at the side of the road by passers-by," Scott answered.

Steve froze in his spot at the name, his eyes widening a fraction as he blinked rapidly three times. He found himself suddenly slipping back into his past, a place he didn't exactly want to be back in. But it was dragging him there, a force too strong for him to keep outside his head.

_He was lying on the ground with a bloody lip and dirt covered clothes, his school books were scattered all over the place. It was high school year, he was in the eleventh grade, his grades were exceptional and he'd been at the top of his classes. But Steve had been skinny then, somewhat defenceless, but not always because he never stood down from a fight. James Barnes, or Bucky as his friends called him, stood over him with a smug grin on his face, like he was pleased to have Steve floored and a little dizzy._

_"S'the matter Stevie? Too weak to fight back? Huh?" he barked, kicking more dirt at him._

_Steve coughed and covered his mouth, feeling his chest tighten slightly. He couldn't let his asthma come into play then, but he reached for his inhaler with a shaky hand. Only to have it kicked out of his hand by Bucky and sent flying a few metres away from him._

_"Stand up and fight you fairy! Fucking queer! Can you believe this kid fucking has a crush on me!" he laughed, earning laughs in return from his deadbeat pals._

_"Leave me alone..." Steve whispered._

_"Aw, see I would, but you're gonna' do my homework for me, aren't ya' Stevie?" he asked._

_"No!" Steve yelled._

_He yelped suddenly when Bucky kicked him in the gut, his body curling in on itself. Ever since ninth grade Bucky hadn't stopped picking on Steve. At first it had been harmless, yet now it started to turn to aggression and Steve always found himself having to hide bruises and cuts he sustained from the beatings. It had been true at the time, he liked Bucky, he wanted to get to know him, but it seemed that Bucky wasn't even interested. Well, the signs were dead clear, but Steve as per usual had kept his hopes too high._

_"We aren't finished, I'll see you tomorrow, shrimp," Bucky growled, before running away._

_"Steve! Oh my god Steve!" a softer voice exclaimed._

_The blonde turned his head and saw his best friend Natasha running in his direction. She scooped up his inhaler on the way and dropped to her knees, helping Steve sit up. He took the inhaler and took two deep breaths in, feeling Natasha gently rub his back and whisper to him softly. Steve could only cry once he'd calmed down, leaning into Natasha's embrace as she kissed his forehead lightly._

_"You're okay," she soothed._

_"I'm here..."_

He could hear voices, someone calling his name, multiple people in fact. That's when Steve realised he'd completely dropped out of reality and was still semi-stuck in his mind. The blonde shook the thoughts out of his head and blinked to clear his vision as the ER came back into his line of sight.

"Steve! Hey Steve! Focus!" Tony shouted.

"Sorry, fuck sorry," he cursed, cringing for swearing out in the open.

Bucky was conscious, so it seemed, bent over the stretcher as he threw up into a bucket. What stunned Steve was how different he looked, long shaggy brown hair, he looked fitter, and he had a metal arm, possibly a prosthetic. But none the less it shocked Steve to his core.  _Steve get it together get inside your head you need a diagnosis_  he thought.

"Where the hell am I? This isn't a party. Did someone not tell me about the hospital dress up?" Bucky slurred.

_Slurred speech. Confusion._

"Mr Barnes, you are at the hospital," Rhodey confirmed, holding Bucky's body down again.

"Who the fuck are you? Get off me!" he screamed, swinging his arm out.

_Unpredictable behaviour._

"Woah! Woah! Calm down James," Sam spoke, grabbing for Bucky's arm to restrain him.

"I'm gonna' be sick," Bucky groaned, leaning over the stretcher again and gagging.

_Vomiting._

"Move him onto the bed now!" Steve ordered, finally finding it in him to move.

Sam and Tony made quick work of transferring Bucky onto the bed as Steve excused Scott and Rhodey, thanking them for sticking to protocol. He pulled the curtain over a little to block other patients views who had unfortunately been woken from the loud noise. Bucky was slumped on his back, eyes half lidded as he blinked slowly, his chest heaving at an abnormal rate.

"I don't-I-" he stopped, slipping into a sudden unconscious state.

"Apparently that's the third time he's slipped unconscious," Tony relayed. 

_Sudden lapses in and out of consciousness._

When he was by Bucky's bedside now, Steve could see that Bucky's skin tone was wrong.

 _Pale, bluish skin_.

He touched his arm.

_Cold and clammy._

Steve grabbed his penlight and flashed it into Bucky's eyes, yet they remained dilated. 

_Poor response to light. Acute alcohol poisoning._

"Sam, treat his hypoglycaemia with fifty millilitres of fifty percent dextrose solution and saline flush," he fired off. "Stark, check and see if his blood concentration is dangerously high, we may need to apply a hemodialysis if that's the case," he added.

He turned his attention back to Bucky and tried to flash the light in his eyes again.

"Mr Barnes, can you hear me?" he questioned. 

_Still unconscious._

Bucky's body went rigid abruptly, arms pulled tight to his chest before his entire body began spasming and jerking. His back arched as a cry echoed out from his throat caused from Bucky's chest muscles contracting.

"He's seizing! Get him on his side! Sam on his legs, Stark hold his torso, I'll hold his shoulders and head!" Steve barked.

He'd dealt with seizures a thousand times before, but Steve couldn't shake the nauseating feeling from the pit of his stomach seeing Bucky go through one. Maybe it had just been the shock of seeing the man who used to bully him, the man he had a dumb crush on, in the flesh again. It'd been years now, Steve didn't expect to ever see Bucky again. His hand was flat on Bucky's shoulder, the other supporting his head so it didn't jerk too much and cause more damage.

"Stark, administer thiamine when the seizure has passed, we want to prevent alcoholic encephalopathy which will only cause more seizures," he uttered.

"Rogers his vital signs are dropping," Sam interrupted.

Steve's head shot up to the monitor, noticing Bucky's heart beat, breathing rate and temperature dropping.  _Shit shit shit_  he cursed mentally.

"We need to warm him up," he replied. "Bruce! We need blankets to control his temperature before he goes into hypothermia!" he yelled.

"I'm on it!" Bruce called back, the scrape of his chair on the floor hurting Steve's ears.

"Steve..." Tony breathed out.

A flatline crossed the screen over Bucky's breathing rate and Steve dropped his hands from Bucky's head and shoulder.

"No no no. He's gone into respiratory arrest. On his back now, we're going to need to do an endotracheal intubation," he demanded. \

"Steve you're shaking I don't think you should do this, let Sam do it," Tony advised.

"I'm fine!...I'm fine," he whispered, shaking his head.

_Why the hell was he trembling?_

"I need a laryngoscope to keep his tongue aside and an endotracheal tube, also a breathing bag on standby," he panted.

He hadn't even noticed that he was breathing heavily as well. Yet Sam and Tony did as they were told, quickly grabbing the equipment they needed. Steve had at least five minutes to get Bucky breathing again or he was a fucking goner. The very thought actually swayed Steve and made his knees a little weak, a thin sheen of sweat creased on his brow.

"Here Steve," Sam murmured, handing him all the essentials.

Steve made quick, but delicate work in holding Bucky's tongue to the side to get a better view of his trachea for the tube. With nimble hands he carefully worked the tube down Bucky's throat. While he only had four minutes left now to try and save Bucky's life, he had to be careful not to cause damage during the insertion. He breathed deeply, in and out, remembering the breathing exercises his old therapist taught him when he was in college.

"We're in, I need the breathing bag now," he said.

He connected the breathing bag to the tube and immediately started to squeeze the bag to pump air into Bucky's lungs. Steve kept his eyes focused on the monitor, eyes still on the flatline that glided across the screen.

"Come on, breathe," he pleaded.

_Three minutes._

His attention turned back to Bucky's chest rising and falling at each push of air he allowed in, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat.

"Come on Bucky, I'm not losing you," he choked out.

_Two minutes._

Tony and Sam exchanged worried and confused glances between each other. One, because Steve looked as if he was ready to faint or have a panic attack. And two, he'd just called the patient by what sounded like a nickname and made a point in saying  _'I'm not losing you'_  to him. But they brushed it away and kept their gazes on the screen as well, seeing a flicker of a breath jump on the line.

"Breathing rate is picking back up. He's stable," Tony informed.

A sigh of relief brushed past Steve's lips as he kept on squeezing the bag until the breathing rate line got back into a gentle rhythm, Bucky's chest rising on his own accord. By then, Bruce had returned with blankets to warm Bucky up and dampen the possible hypothermia.

"Get a nasal cannula for oxygen therapy, and treat him with medication for the nausea. Bruce, get those blankets on him and get water to put beside his bed. He may need a drip to keep his hydration up, we can't have him dehydrating. Administer the thiamine Tony...and Sam, treat his low blood sugar, he won't need a hemodialysis. Then move him into a room so he's more comfortable. Seventeen is free," Steve explained, before stepping away from the bed.

"Where are you going?" Bruce queried.

"I need some air," Steve wavered, pushing past his colleagues as he headed for the front doors.

"I'll go see him, will you two be okay here to treat Barnes?" Tony asked.

Bruce and Sam nodded in unison as Tony left and fully closed the curtain behind him and set off after Steve. He pushed open the doors and wandered over to the bench in the garden out at the front of the hospital. Steve tended to be there a lot of the time when he was on a short break before being paged to come and assist again. Tony saw him sitting on the bench, his hands covering his face as his shoulders trembled. Out of the two years that Tony had known Steve, he'd never seen him breakdown during an emergency situation, not even if they lost the patient. With cautious steps he wandered over and sat down on the bench, resting his hand on Steve's arm.

"Hey, you alright?" he soothed.

Steve lifted his head, the tears teetering on the edge of his eyes, bottom lip drawn in by his teeth as he inhaled sharply.

"That patient...I know him," he wavered.

"You do?" Tony asked.

"He-" Steve paused, wiping the corners of his eyes. "He used to go to my high school. We weren't friends, he used to bully me because I had this dumb crush on him," he added.

"Steve..." Tony whispered. "You don't need to blame yourself for what he did," he assured him.

"It was a long time ago, I wasn't in a good state then, I had really bad health. I was the underdog I guess," Steve muttered.

"That shouldn't be an excuse for someone to pick on you Steve. You don't judge a book by its cover. I bet you were really sweet, like you are now," Tony replied.

The blonde smiled weakly.

"You're just saying that," he huffed.

Tony grinned.

"We've been friends for two years now...you're a really great guy Steve. Nobody deserves to be bullied. And I'll tell you something, James must have had issues himself, so he took it out on you. Because sometimes bullies don't want to pass off as a coward, even though deep down they are cowards, so they try to vent out their own issues on someone else. They think that will make them feel better. I think it's wrong. You should never do that to somebody. But you can't help but wonder if they're doing it because they're not feeling okay. Y'know?" he explained.

What had happened in the emergency room suddenly dawned on Steve completely and he dropped his head in his hands again.

"I saved his life...I fucking saved his life," he breathed out.

"It's our job Steve. And if he's not grateful for it, then he's got problems he needs to fix," Tony answered.

"He looks so different, it's been so long," he muttered.

"Come here," Tony sighed, holding his arms out to Steve.

The blonde scooted across the bench and melted into Tony's embrace, his hand running up and down his back comfortingly.

"You did a great job Steve. First I thought he had overdosed, but you were onto it straight away," he praised.

"Technically he was having an overdose, just initiated by alcohol," Steve mumbled.

"You think he did this on purpose? Maybe he's got an alcohol addiction," Tony suggested.

"Tony..." Steve uttered.

"Look, I'm only offering an answer to the diagnosis. You know how I used to be with alcohol when I gave you the whole backstory. Maybe this goes a little against doctor and patient protocol...but, I think you should talk to him. He could end up in here again Steve, and the next time he might not be so lucky," the brunette warned.

It actually ached to hear those words fall out of Tony's mouth, yet he was right. A lot of acute alcohol poisoning incidents Steve had come across where closely related to alcoholism and also as a means of drinking oneself to death.  _God why would he do that?_  he thought, blinking away tears. It'd been a long, long time since he'd seen Bucky last, Bucky probably wouldn't even remember him. Well, he wouldn't recognise him, considering he was now three times the size he used to be. However, Tony had a point, there was always a reason behind such a thing, whether it simply be recklessness or trying to find an escape route. All the thoughts in Steve's head jarred him and he could feel himself start to tremble again.

"Easy Steve," Tony spoke, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"Hey Steve, Tony," Sam's voice interjected. "I hate to break up the consoling session. But we need you back inside," he added.

"Is everything okay?" Steve questioned, sitting up straighter now.

"He's responding well to the medication, but his breathing keeps faltering still," Sam responded.

"Maybe someone needs to stay and monitor him," Tony mused.

"I'll do it," Steve said, abruptly.

"Steve I don't think-" Tony stopped, when Steve held his hand up.

"I'll do it. I can work overtime. He's my patient," he issued.

Tony glanced at him with that look that had _'are you sure about this?'_ written all over it. Steve nodded slowly, before he stood from the bench, running his hand through his tousled hair.

"You two did a good job tonight, you worked really well. So please, for the love of god...go home and sleep," he demanded, with Sam only nodding briefly in response, and Tony just staring at him with uncertainty.

He'd stay beside Bucky regardless, the past was the past. Maybe it was time for amends to be made.

* * *

**Saturday 18th July**

**3am**

For six hours Steve monitored Bucky as he slept in room seventeen, down the hallway from the ER. His breathing had remained stable for well over four hours, but Steve still insisted on staying. Tony and Sam dropped by at the end of their shifts with coffee and a hot dinner for Steve. He was thankful he had such understanding and caring friends, he only ever had Natasha during high school. Yet now he had a fair few, most of them were from work, but Steve was thankful regardless. Steve looked up at the clock on the wall, finishing off the last of the apple that Tony had given him along with his dinner. He glanced over at Bucky, his weary eyes scanning down the brunette propped up against some pillows. His lips were parted an inch with soft breaths of air sounding out, his face relaxed and peaceful. The colour in his skin had started to come back compared to the pale tone it had hours ago. Steve could have just reached out and brushed the loose strands of hair from his forehead, but that was overstepping boundaries by a long shot.

Bucky looked so,  _so_  different from high school, now that his hair was long, not short, that he had a prosthetic, not his real arm which Steve could recall having tattoos on it. The tattoos were on his right arm now and Steve tilted his head to look at them, squinting his eyes slightly. He cast his gaze over a tattoo of a set of dog tags that were lying over what looked like a very detailed paintbrush with red paint dripping down onto the tags. The tags had his name on it and the red paint was making his name more visible. On closer inspection the dog tags were an exact copy of the pair that Steve's mother had given him when he was in high school. But he'd lost those tags during prom and never saw them again.  _Oh my god_  Steve thought, putting the book he was reading down on the table beside him. He stood up as quietly as he could and made his way over to Bucky, his breathing slightly laboured.

While what he was doing somewhat broke patient and doctor protocol, he simply  _had_  to know. Around Bucky's neck was a silver chain and resting on the folded part of his hospital gown were the tags. Steve swallowed thickly when he saw the tag with his name on it, but also one with Bucky's name on it and the years he'd served in the military with the 107th.  _Could it be that Bucky's military past had something to do with the alcohol poisoning?_  He slowly walked backwards to the chair, his attention never leaving Bucky and he thumped back down onto the plush cushions. Steve couldn't believe what he'd seen. A whole tattoo directed specifically towards him, then there was his tag around Bucky's neck.  _How did he get it? Where did he get it?_

_"Ungh,"_

Steve blinked rapidly, drawing himself out of his thoughts and sitting up straighter in the chair. Bucky was beginning to stir, legs shifting under the blankets, his prosthetic metal arm making a clinking noise as the metal plates twisted. He breathed out slowly as his eyes opened a fraction, squinting up at the ceiling. The soft beeps of the machines tore his attention away from the ceiling, tongue darting out to moisten his dry lips. His throat felt vaguely sore, but it was head that was hurting the most, as if someone was slamming a hammer against his skull. He groaned and rested his left hand on his forehead, the coolness of the metal soothing the ache slightly. Yet then he realised he wasn't alone, noting the presence of Steve who was still sitting in the chair, observing Bucky with tired eyes.  _Oh no he's hot_ Bucky thought, peeking out from under his hand. Then came the realisation that there was a cannula in his nose, drips connected to his arm and pain. The pain was mostly from his thumping headache, but in the pit of his stomach, his whole body felt achey also. Bucky started to push himself up a little, arms shaky as his vision blurred with speckled dots.

"Good morning," Steve spoke.

 _God what a voice_  he thought, turning his head to the side to glance at Steve.

"Um...I-" he paused, frowning at how hoarse his voice sounded.

"Do you know where you are Mr Barnes?" Steve asked.

He frowned at them, he hated being called 'Mr Barnes' it somehow made him feel older than he was.

"The hospital?" he answered.

Steve nodded curtly.

"What happened?" he questioned.

"You were rushed into the ER with signs of acute alcohol poisoning," Steve responded.

 _Oh_  Bucky said to himself.

"Ah shit," he cursed, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

"You had a seizure after you fell unconscious, my co-worker was readying himself to administer thiamine which is a vitamin to prevent alcoholic encephalopathy or better known as WKS which causes seizures. Considering you had a seizure beforehand I can only assume you've been abusing alcohol for some time. You've been given medication for your nausea also, and you were treated for hypoglycaemia, which is low blood sugar," the blonde explained.

"And my sore throat?" Bucky uttered.

Steve inhaled sharply and Bucky could see a flicker of what looked like panic, possibly worry in the bright swirls of blue.

"You went into respiratory arrest and I had five minutes to get you breathing again. I put a tube down your throat and then had a breathing bag to push air into your lungs. There had been two minutes left, and I managed to get you breathing on your own again. My co-workers treated you for everything I asked for at the start, then we moved you into this room to make you feel comfortable," he said.

Bucky swallowed thickly and chewed on his bottom lip.

"Wait, wait...what would have happened if you didn't get my breathing back within five minutes?" he whispered.

"You would have died," Steve breathed out, clasping his hands together.

He was speechless, or more so, Steve could see the shock cross his features and the colour drain from his face. Bucky looked down at his hands, opening and closing the metal as a ripple of anxiety shook through his body. His stomach twisted in knots, his eyes stung with tears that failed to fall and his skin prickled with unease. The night was a blur for him, he'd remembered being at a party, but then left. Only then did a memory flash in his mind of himself stumbling by the side of the road close to his neighbourhood. He'd collapsed a few houses down from his, and luckily a passerby had noticed him and stayed until the paramedics showed up. But everything else was sketchy afterwards. Bucky didn't even recall getting into an ambulance, thinking he must have been pretty smashed and out of his mind.

"I don't-" he stopped, before briefly glancing at Steve. "I don't remember much," he added.

Steve lent forward in his seat more, clasped hands resting over his mouth. Bucky looked exhausted, and scared...he _seemed_ scared, and Steve had never seen that before.

"Mr Barnes...this might get...personal. But, I have to ask, for your sake...were you trying to drink yourself to death?" he asked.

"What?" Bucky choked out, eyes narrowing at the blonde.

"Did you...try to kill yourself?" he questioned, keeping himself calm and collected.

Bucky bit down on his lip to stop it trembling at each shaky breath he exhaled. He'd seen terrible things in his life, things he never wanted to experience again. The brunette rubbed his left shoulder with a hushed wince, feeling the raised scarring that connected skin to the metal prosthetic. His brain wasn't functioning well enough for him to even answer things probably, and he actually had no clue about the actual answer to the question.

"I-" he paused. "I don't know..." he continued.

"Bucky..." Steve murmured.

 _How does he know my name like that?_  Bucky thought. He glared at Steve, feeling his fingers twitch in agitation. Nobody except his friends knew his nickname that was taken from his middle name. Well, his friends that he once had in high school, long ago. Bucky no longer had any friends, not even his time with The Howling Commandos in the 107th three years ago earned him any friends. They were all dead after he was discharged and it was  _his_  fault, Bucky had  _always_  blamed himself. It was the reason he lost his arm, the reason he never wanted to get close to anyone, the reason he didn't want to live sometimes.

"How do you know that name? Only my friends knew me by that name," he ground out.

The pair made eye contact and _holy shit_ Steve's eyes were  _seriously_  blue and Bucky sunk back in the pillows a little. They were intimidating to look at with a lick of fire burning within them.

"You know me," Steve spoke, after what felt like minutes.

Bucky shook his head.

"No I don't..." he protested.

"Not now you wouldn't...I mean, I've changed a lot...I used to be skinnier, shorter and a lot of my health issues have gone away," Steve replied.

He found himself staring at the blonde across from him, tilting his head as he studied him. Then, just like  _that_ , a door opened in the back of his mind, memories from his high school years flooding into his head. There he was, his old self with the short hair, clean shaven face and his actual left arm. He was towering over a figure on the ground, one with blonde hair, blue eyes and a bruise showing on his jaw. _Of course_ , it had been from him, Bucky picked on that kid, and only him. And he knew it had started as soon as he heard that some kid in the grade below him had a crush on him. At the time, Bucky hadn't been familiar with what he fancied, until high school ended and he joined the army. The only people he was surrounded with were males, and he got somewhat curious. It was all Bucky liked now, women were an afterthought and simply friend material to him. But back in high school he had a reputation and he wanted to keep it that way. So hearing that some other guy was crushing on him had Bucky turn sour and attack the kid for no reason and threaten him to do his homework or he'd out him to the whole school.  _God_ , he was a prick back then and he knew it.

"I think your favourite names for me were fairy, queer and shrimp. But you mostly called me Stevie," the blonde interjected.

His heart rate jumped.

"Steve?" he gasped, his brow smoothing out to hide the confused frown.

"Hi," Steve responded, waving his hand lazily.

"Oh my god," Bucky breathed. "Steve...skinny Steve from-oh god, fuck," he cursed.

Steve nodded slowly.

"Been a while," he mused.

"It's been years. I got told you left for London," Bucky uttered.

That peaked Steve's interest, his right eyebrow raising a pinch.

"I worked in a hospital in London for three years after finishing all my work for my degree. By then I was like this, taller, leaner, no more asthma or anything," he explained.

"You um-" Bucky faltered. "You look great..." he commented.

A flicker of a smile graced Steve's face.

"Now you say that," he huffed out.

Bucky sighed deeply, before he blanched and reached his metal hand over to cover the section on his arm where the tattoo for Steve was. Steve honestly couldn't help but smirk, it was amusing to him to see Bucky floundering at how the man across from him was this...sculpted Greek god now. He discreetly pushed his dog tags down under the material of the gown as well, keeping his head down to stare at his hand.

"Must be a shock for you seeing me here," Steve issued.

"It is...really I'm more surprised than shocked," Bucky mumbled.

As if it had been waiting in a queue, the reality of it all hit Bucky like a brick wall falling on top of him. Steve had saved his life, the man he'd tormented and hurt so much so many years ago. He was a cruel person back then, he'd even wanted to apologise to Steve at one point. That was when he'd been told Steve had moved to London and may not come back. So Bucky joined the army then, he did it so that people could have freedom, a freedom Steve didn't get when he was practically at the clutches of Bucky all through high school.

"Why did you save me?" he wavered.

"I'm sorry?" Steve answered.

"Why did you save me? After everything I did to you. Why did you save me!" he yelled, his voice strained and broken.

Steve was taken aback by the sudden change in behaviour, his eyes locking with Bucky's that were now flooding with tears.

"I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to be here. After everything I did... _everything!_  Why did you save me. Why?" he sobbed.

"Bucky easy," Steve soothed, standing from his seat.

Bucky's chest heaved as he stared down at his hands and saw both his flesh hands, blood staining them. He knew it wasn't his blood and he choked out a gasp as his hands trembled.

"I'm sorry I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I did that to you! I'm such an idiot, I'm such an idiot!" he screamed.

"Bucky calm down!" Steve exclaimed.

He grabbed Bucky's arms and pinned them back on the bed, his grip firm yet gentle. He'd seen panic attacks before, he'd had them himself so long ago, so he knew exactly what to do when they occurred.

"Deep breaths Bucky...come on," he ordered.

"I didn't-" Bucky choked, blinking away tears to clear his vision.

His chest rose and fell slowly at each deep inhale, his eyes screwing shut as he tried to picture his metal arm and tattooed arm again. The soft touch of Steve's fingers gently massaging his arm brought him back down from the hell he was feeling before. He opened his eyes a fraction, catching the sight of his metal arm again, and the hospital bed, a shaky breath brushing past his lips.

"There we go, that's good, you're doing good Bucky," Steve encouraged.

Sharp stabs of pain lingered around his stomach and ribs, making him groan and throw his head back against the pillows.

"I'm going to give you more morphine alright?" Steve said, running his hands down to Bucky's hand. "You're alright," he added, comforting Bucky with a light brush of his fingers on his palm.

Bucky nodded and swallowed back the tears, wiping the corner of his eyes with his left hand, the cold metal jolting him slightly. He still hadn't gotten used to it being cold when it was out in the open and exposed. Steve reached into the drawer to open a clean needle and grab a bottle of the morphine, turning his attention to Bucky every now and again.

"You alright?" he tested. "You'll probably feel it working in a few minutes," he continued.

"Yeah," Bucky grumbled.

The blonde smiled.

"I saved your life because it's my job. It's my job to save lives. But even if I can't, I try my best. I've always wanted to help people in this way. Doesn't matter who it is, everyone deserves to live," he explained.

"But I hurt you. I hurt you...so much," the brunette whispered.

"It's in the past. I admit, I needed a moment when you were rushed in. But, I knew I had to save you. I couldn't let you die, Bucky," Steve admitted.

"Mm," Bucky hummed. "Don't stop calling me that," he drawled.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"I think the morphine is working," Bucky snorted, letting out a sharp laugh before clapping his hand over his mouth.

A grin crossed Steve's face as he stared at the brunette who looked slightly dazed, but relaxed.

"Maybe I forgot to add you might say some strange things because you're so relaxed," he crowed.

“Holy hell," Bucky purred.

Steve chuckled.

"What?" he scoffed, playing along with Bucky's drowsy state.

"You're  _fucking_  hot," Bucky snickered, slapping his hand on his chest. "Ow," he whined, scrunching his face up.

"I get that a lot," Steve uttered.

"Hm, you were always so... _cute_ ," Bucky said, sleepily, turning his head to the side to look at Steve.

His blue eyes were staring back at him and Bucky felt his cheeks heat up a little, even Steve had to look away with a bashful smile.

"I only picked on you because I really liked you back. I guess I was just a jerk, wanted to fit in, couldn't fit in with those guys if I liked men," Bucky murmured.

If that didn't break Steve's heart then he didn't know what else could. As much as it was a shock to hear what Bucky had to say about why he picked on him. That was a major surprise.  _How could anyone possibly hide who they are to fit in somewhere that clearly isn't for them?_  He kept his gaze fixed on Bucky, a few strands of his long hair falling over his face. Steve would be an idiot if he didn't think Bucky still looked absolutely breathtaking, tattoos and all. He coughed awkwardly and looked away, before flinching when Bucky's metal hand was on his arm.

"Thank you, I owe you...so much. You saved my life," he sighed.

"You don't owe me anything. I was just doing what any other doctor would do," Steve confessed. "I want to help you further," he added.

"What could you possibly offer me Steve?" the brunette hissed, feeling his eyes well with tears again.

"How about a friend?" Steve offered.

Bucky averted his gaze and sucked in an uneven breath of air, trying to stop himself from crying again.

"Look, it's nearly 4am, I need to go home and rest for a few hours before my next shift. You should get some sleep too, your body is still exhausted from everything that happened. I'm going to leave some specialist group leaflets on the reception desk. So, whenever you get discharged, if you want to take them, you can. You're not alone Bucky," Steve mumbled.

"Y-yeah, I'll sleep," Bucky stammered, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "And thanks. I guess I do have a problem I just didn't realise," he grunted.

"Hopefully you feel better in the morning," Steve replied.

"I hope so," Bucky muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the end of the bed.

"You'll start to get really drowsy and just fall asleep. I'd let you stay awake but...I think you still need rest," the blonde sighed, checking the drip in Bucky's arm.

"No, you're right, sleep is good. Doctor's orders," Bucky teased, with a half smile.

Steve grinned and stepped back after fluffing Bucky's pillows up a little.

"I guess I'll see you sometime tomorrow," he hummed.

"I'm counting on it hot stuff," Bucky joked, laying his head back on the pillows.

Steve's laugh caught him completely off guard, sweet and light, a proper laugh and one he hadn't heard in years. His laugh was exactly the same as it was in high school, only a little deeper and louder.  _Yes_ , through high school he'd purposely sit close to Steve just to hear his laugh. It was a good thing Steve never paid much attention to who was around him because he would most likely keep himself curled up in a shell. He wanted to say thanks again, but couldn't find it in him, he felt too tired, and was in complete disbelief still.

"Goodnight Bucky," Steve said, before closing the door behind him.

The brunette closed his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand letting a wavered sob pass his lips. His gaze fell on the tattoo he'd had done for Steve after he'd left the army, his metal fingers tracing the line work. A few tears fell onto the tattoo and ran down the trail of red paint from the brush. Ever since high school had finished Bucky tried to track Steve down until he was told that Steve had moved to London. To say he was disappointed was an understatement, heartbroken was a better word for it. Now Steve was the one who had saved him from an impending death and Bucky didn't know what to do with himself.

_"Excuse me do you know if Steve Rogers still lives here?"_

_"I'm sorry, he moved away to London about a month ago,"_

_"Oh...thank you for letting me know,"_

Bucky remembered walking back home that day feeling saddened and distraught that he couldn't at least apologise to Steve. Maybe he could now by going to one of the specialist groups. If Steve really wanted to help, then Bucky would make it so. He turned himself onto his side and held his arms close to himself, drifting off to sleep even as the tears kept falling down his cheeks.

* * *

**11am**

By late morning, Bucky was feeling a lot better than he had only a few hours ago. A nurse walked into his room at around 9am to inform him that he was being discharged. He'd asked her if Steve was working but she said he wasn't due in until 11:40am. While Bucky would have loved to wait, he had to go home and get ready for work because his shift was at 12pm. Even though he had been given strict orders not to go to work, Bucky insisted that he was going to be fine. He'd missed out on too many shifts at work for too long, and he had bills to pay, plus he had nothing better to do. As he stood in front of the mirror staring at the scars on his body and the tattoos, he couldn't help but wonder if Steve had seen the tattoo he'd gotten done for him. A light pink blush crossed his cheeks as he grabbed his shirt and tugged it on over his head, sighing when his bones cracked softly. He was glad to be getting out of hospital, he'd forgotten how uncomfortable the bed was and how much the place smelt of disinfectant.

_"Sergeant Barnes?"_

Bucky winced and rested his hand on his temple, eyes screwed shut as he shook his head. He hated having random voices calling out to him in his head, they hadn't stopped since he'd gotten back from Afghanistan. Even with so many sessions put in to seeing his therapist, the voices still called out to him. He sighed and picked up his jacket from the bed, shrugging it on as well, before grabbing his wallet and phone, still thankful he hadn't lost them at the party. The brunette tied his hair up loosely and rubbed at his tired eyes, yawning loudly. On the bed sat a small bouquet of flowers and a gift, wrapped up tightly in red, white and blue paper with a card on the top.

He'd called his therapist early in the morning and asked for a small favour, thankfully she was willing to organise it for him. He knew that Steve's birthday had been on the fourth but it wasn't like he knew that Steve was back in Brooklyn anyway, so he decided to buy him a few gifts as a thank you and also as birthday gifts. Bucky knew he'd most likely look like a creep considering he knew the exact type of flowers Steve liked when he overheard him talking about the ones he had planted in his yard. He glanced down at the peach coloured roses and white orchids with silver wrapping around them and considered offering them to a nurse instead. But he told himself to calm down and that he could leave the flowers for Steve with no trouble whatsoever.

"Here goes nothin'," he sighed, picking up the gifts as he looked around the room once more.

He stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him, the hallway loud with activity and the awful sounds of patients coughing or complaining about pain. In the room across from him he could see a couple crying over a child whose machine was no longer on to tell his heartbeat. Bucky felt a sting of sympathy as he averted his eyes and continued down the hallway.

"Ah Sam you're a saint you brought coffee!" a voice yelled.

Bucky sauntered around the corner into the reception area, casting his eyes over the three men sitting at the desk. The brunette with the oddly shaved goatee clocked his presence and looked up with a smile.

"Hey Barnes, good to see you up and about unlike last night," he commented.

"Uh thanks-" Bucky paused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Oh where are my manners! I'm Tony, this guy here with the glorious coffee is Sam and this bundle of goodness behind me is Bruce," Tony introduced.

"Tony," Bruce huffed, cheeks a light shade of pink.

A small smile graced Bucky's face as he nodded at Sam, who nodded in return.

"Good to see you're feeling better," he mused.

"Oh yeah, I'm feeling so much better, thanks for y'know...saving my life basically," Bucky replied, shrugging lazily.

"Oh it's no problem, but it was mostly Steve. Are you being discharged?" Tony asked.

Bucky nodded slowly.

"Alright, you just need to fill this out," he issued, picking up a clipboard and flipping it open to a new page.

"No problem," Bucky hummed, picking up the pen closest to him.

Tony glanced at Sam then back at the flowers and wrapped gift beside Bucky, his eyebrow raising curiously.

"Someone's lucky," he spoke.

Bucky's head tilted up as he looked at the gifts and smiled sheepishly, biting down on his lip nervously, which he did far too often.

"Yeah...they're um-" he stopped, scratching the back of his neck bashfully.

 "They're actually for Steve. I was wondering if you could give them to him for me?" he questioned.

Tony grinned as he lent back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head.

"And what exactly are you planning on doing with Steve?" he tested.

"I wasn't. No I- _ah_  crap," the brunette stammered.

Sam and Bruce chuckled behind Tony who had a shit-eating smirk on his face.

"Look, we know about Steve's little crush on you in high school. No big deal. We're just fooling around," Tony crowed.

"Oh...he told you," Bucky breathed out, signing the final space on the form. "I just wanted to thank him for what he did last night and I know it was his birthday on the fourth so I got him a gift, I hope that's not overstepping boundaries between patient and doctor," he added.

"Well, you _technically_ aren't his patient anymore, so no, it's fine," Tony replied.

"He said he'd have these leaflets sitting out for me for specialist groups to deal with alcohol abuse and things like that," Bucky said.

"That'll be these here," Tony answered, placing them up beside Bucky.

"Thanks," he sighed, picking them up and slipping them into his pocket. "Tell him I said hi," he continued. "And thanks again," he chimed, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Tony smiled kindly then.

"Will do, look after yourself buddy," he added.

Bucky nodded and turned away as he made his way out of the hospital, breathing a sigh of relief at the outside world. He always felt so closed off in hospitals and it was great to hear the sounds of the city again and see the sights. The loud rumble of a motorcycle drew his attention to the left where a sleek black Harley pulled up into the staff only parking space. Bucky dared to take a look at who owned it and was a bit taken aback when it was Steve he saw. He didn't expect Steve to be a motorcycle kind of guy, but what did he know, it'd been years since they'd seen each other.  _God I feel like a perv_  he thought, casting his gaze over Steve. The blonde ran his hand through his windswept hair and stretched slightly which only pulled his shirt against his chest tighter. Bucky swallowed thickly and turned in the other direction to retreat before he had a panic attack or something. The light blue shirt did Steve no justice, his abs were far too rock hard and evident in any shirt.  _Why can't you get bigger shirts Steve!_  Bucky said to himself.

"Stupid bastard being sexy and everything. Christ," he hissed, ducking into a crowd of people and disappearing from sight.

Steve killed the engine of the Harley and stepped off, grabbing his bag on the way and slinging it over his shoulder. He didn't get home until 5am considering he stopped off at a twenty four hour diner and got something to eat beforehand. He'd slept until 8am and did some painting until he had to leave for work, and was in dire need of coffee. Steve yawned and walked over to the main doors, pushing through them maybe a little too roughly as the handle hit the opposite wall.

"Oops," he whispered.

"Well good morning Mr Superhero," Tony chided. "Oh you know what we should call him, Captain America or something," he added.

The blonde rolled his eyes.

"That's hilarious," he scoffed.

"Hey, you got some gifts from sweet ol' Bucko this morning," Tony said.

"He's not here?" Steve questioned, disappointment laced in his voice.  

"No, well, he just got discharged about five minutes ago," the brunette answered.

"Oh," Steve murmured, shrugging his bag off his shoulder.

"You sound disappointed," Sam interjected.

"Not disappointed I was just-y'know what it doesn't matter..." the blonde muttered.

Sam and Tony exchanged glances of concern as Steve picked up the flowers and held them up to smell them. He drew his bottom lip in and sighed, before smiling widely.

"He knew my favourite flowers," he wavered, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Hey, come on Steve, it's alright," Tony soothed, resting his hand on Steve's. "You'll see him again," he assured him.

"You don't know that," Steve mumbled, shaking his head and wiping away a stray tear. "Sorry. I'm sorry, last night was just...really tough," he croaked. "Bucky told me he only picked on me because he really liked me back, and he's got this tattoo on his arm that's pretty much a symbol to me and he found my old dog tag I lost at prom. It's just like he really wanted to make things right and I wasn't here, I was in London," he added, sitting the flowers back down as Bruce handed him a tissue. 

Tony squeezed Steve's hand and smiled sadly, pushing the wrapped gift over to him.

"He said this was a birthday present," he hummed.

Steve laughed shakily as he turned it over and peeled it open to reveal a very expensive looking sketchbook, leather bound and packed with pages. He ran his fingers along it and saw his name engraved on the front cover,  _'Steven G. Rogers'_  in cursive silver writing.

"Way to sway a guy Buck," he breathed out.

"Did you read the card?" Sam asked.

He hadn't even noticed the card until he saw it sticking out from under the paper. It was only a small one, but it was the thought that counted. Steve flipped it over and read over it, feeling an unusual stutter of his heart in his chest as he stared down at it.

**_I know I said this so much last night, but thanks again for letting me hang on for a little bit longer. The flowers are a thank you and the sketchbook is a birthday present, I know it's late, but I didn't even know you were back in Brooklyn. I don't want to lose contact, so...if you ever want to call me to see how I'm doing, my number is on the back. See ya' around Stevie - Bucky_ **

Steve grinned and put the card down and grabbed out his phone to save the number, earning a smug smile from Tony.

"He's got that Cheshire smile," Bruce commented.

"That's because he just got his lover boy's number," Tony taunted.

"He's not my lover boy," Steve scoffed.

"Keep telling yourself that. Oh and he took the leaflets too," Tony chimed.

"Good, I mean...that's great even," Steve crowed.

"You're in so deep Steve," the brunette snickered.

Sam barked a laugh.

"I think you might want to rephrase that," he groaned.

"Hey you never know he might get in deep at some point," Tony joked.

"Tony! Not in the hospital!" the blonde scolded.

"Alright, I better go I've got a patient to see, see you two losers later. Bye Brucie," Tony purred, smacking a kiss on the brunette's cheek.

Steve and Sam started wolf whistling as Bruce flushed bright red and Tony walked away with swagger in his stride and a loud laugh echoing down the hallway.

"I hate you both," Bruce accused.

"Nah man, you love us," Sam chuckled.

The hilarity died down as Steve sat down at the desk to finish some paperwork until he had to go and see some new patients, opening up a new message on his phone. He typed out a quick message to Bucky and sent it, before locking his phone.

**_I can't believe I missed you by five minutes :(...thank you for the flowers, they’re my favourite and the sketchbook, it’s really nice. You were a wonderful patient, despite the circumstances that you were in for. I hope you're feeling better, and I'm glad you took the leaflets. Hope I see you soon - Steve_ **

Not even ten seconds later did he receive an immediate reply.

**_Gee, I didn't expect a reply already, do you miss me that much ;)...thanks for everything. I’m glad you like the flowers, I knew they were your favourite. Keep that sketchbook for special drawings. I hope I see you soon too - Bucky_ **

Steve smirked and put his phone away and turned his attention back to the files. Even after all these years, Bucky still held all the humour that Steve used to admire from afar. And for once it felt nice not to feel threatened by him, things could have gone completely different last night. Steve could only hope that maybe they could fix the past and move on with the future. 


	2. The Past Is The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy hits a brick wall when asking Steve about his late night shift monitoring Bucky. While Bucky tries to battle through his anxiety and attend an AA meeting, Steve learns things about Bucky's past that explain everything. It isn't until Steve hits a nerve with Bucky that he realises, sometimes he needs to engage his brain. However, he has a chance to redeem himself when he's at the same bar & bistro Bucky works at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a LONG time to write, it's well over 20k, but that's what I was looking for anyway. There was a lot of writing to go into this anyway. 
> 
> What I can promise you in this chapter is undoubtedly lots of singing thrown in lol, it's stupidly ridiculous but essential for the characters. A lot of fooling around and hilarity really. But also, there's quite a rollercoaster of feels and angst throughout it. We see what triggered Bucky's bad ways with Steve during high school with a few things that happened in his childhood. 
> 
> I'm putting some warnings here, there's mentions of a child death (someone very close to Bucky) and a parent death, there's mentions of past domestic abuse, there's graphic war violence when Bucky gets onto the topic of his time in the army. And there are mentions of suicidal thoughts, but that is why I have added more tags. 
> 
> New characters will be joining, so it's great to be adding them in, and do keep your eye out for Rumlow being a bit straight forward and alluring, himself and Bucky will have a moment of course in chapter four, before I decide to break that off and make Steve's dumbass brain see that he's in love.
> 
> But we do see our boys getting a little flirtatious with each other, and Tony catching on. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy.
> 
> Do feel free to come hunt me down on tumblr at starspangled-bucky if you're planning a mutiny against me or something XD

  

**Brooklyn**

**Sunday 19th July**

**6am**

Steve woke early for work the following morning, staring at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He reached into the small medicine cabinet by the sink and pulled out a bottle of pills, shaking two into his hand. Even as a doctor he still had some issues from his past to sort through. One of them was his anxiety which crept up on him now and again, the pills were to keep it at bay for a majority of the time. He hadn't fallen into an anxiety attack at work or in public for months now, his last one being at home and luckily with Sam there with him. Yet he was getting better, as his new therapist Phil stated several times since the last time he saw him. Steve had scheduled another session in the coming week, just for a small check up to see where he was at with his stability. If all went well he probably wouldn't have to take the pills anymore, that all depended on what Phil evaluated from the session. 

The blonde rinsed his toothbrush under cold water and sat it to the side, before running his hand through his hair, pushing it to the side a little. He'd been in contact with Bucky since yesterday, but it was only brief, and they didn't really have much to talk about. It was most likely still somewhat awkward, or strange for them both coming to terms with seeing each other again. Steve himself was still in disbelief about what Bucky had said to him, and the tattoos were a complete shock also. It was as if he wanted to know more, wanted to know the story behind them all. But Steve was still as shy as anything when it came to asking questions that seemed pretty personal or invasive when he wasn't working at the hospital. Not that it was his fault, it was simply the way he was, not that anyone should blame him for it. Steve wanted so desperately to break out into song with the music playing on the stereo in his bedroom, but settled for humming instead. 

_Birds flying high_

_You know how I feel_

_Sun in the sky_

_You know how I feel_

_Breeze driftin' on by_

_You know how I feel_

He would only be working with check ups on patients and x-rays today, Tony and Sam would be spending most of their time in the ER and a few more doctors would drop in also. Although, Steve wouldn't be too far away, just in case. Which is why he had decided to dress smartly today, unlike yesterday where his favourite light blue shirt had gotten used as something to throw up on. But considering he wasn't needed in the ER for the day, he'd settled on a deep red wine coloured button up and grey slacks. Steve always kept his wardrobe fairly stocked up with a lot of clothing for several different occasions, both casual and smart. He'd be lying to himself if he denied that he most definitely wasn't a style fanatic, maybe not _overly_ fanatical about it, he just wanted to make himself look presentable. You couldn't be a doctor and look like an absolute dag, it was highly unprofessional. 

_It's a new dawn_

_It's a new day_

_It's a new life_

_For me_

_And I'm feeling good_

_I'm feeling good_

With one last look at himself in the mirror, Steve exited the bathroom and turned into his bedroom. His apartment was on the twelfth floor of a fourteen storey building, with a few more apartments directly down the hall. He had a perfect view of the beach that stretched along to Coney Island which looked better at night when the lights were lit. It was peaceful and the apartment Steve was living in was very well furnished and homely. Not to mention, it was also expensive, but Steve's career had given him enough income to probably buy a penthouse somewhere. But Steve wasn't one for luxuries, he simply liked the location and wasn't there for the material things, even if his home was furnished with every piece of modern style furniture possible. 

He grabbed the remote on his bed and turned the stereo off, before opening a drawer and pulling out a black tie. Ties weren't always Steve's thing, but were a necessity at work on some days, like today. Steve yawned loudly and quickly looped the tie around his neck, straightening it up until it fit snugly between the gap of his collar. His attention turned to the clock beside his bed which read 6:40am, he'd have plenty of time to get to work, maybe even drop by the cafe to grab a coffee and a sandwich or something. The hospital wasn't too far from Steve's apartment, which was another reason why he'd bought the apartment in the first place. Steve hummed to himself and grabbed his bag, before leaving the bedroom and jogging down the stairs with a spring in his step. He fished his car keys out of the bowl at the front door along with his wallet and sunglasses, using his other hand to open the door and step out into the hallway. 

"Good morning Steve!" a loud voice called. 

Steve tilted his head up after locking the door, smiling widely when he caught sight of his friend Thor who lived at the last apartment before the elevator with his brother Loki. 

"Hey Thor, how are you goin'?" he replied, making his way down to the blonde.

Thor was a few inches taller than Steve, a little broader in the shoulder area, but blonde and blue eyed like Steve. A lot of talk went on through the whole building about the two blonde bombshells up on floor twelve. The pair waved it off half the time but there was the odd woman, or man, staring at them like they'd just stepped off a golden throne with fluffy white wings sprouting out their backs. Not only that, Thor was talked about most because of his speech like he stepped out of the Medieval times, all polite, eloquent and enthusiastic. Then there was Steve, the  _oh so_  gorgeous doctor that everyone would want a piece of.  

"I am well my friend, and you?" Thor asked.

"Oh y'know, saving lives and such when I can, the usual," Steve answered.

"Stark was telling me you've met someone," Thor chimed. 

Steve rolled his eyes.

"I saved his life on Friday night, and he bought me flowers as a thank you, now Tony, Sam and Bruce are hounding me about it because he used to be my crush in high school, but he used to bully me," he explained.

Thor's brow creased into a frown.

"Surely you can forgive a man," he answered.

"I forgave him a long time ago, this was in high school, Thor. He's different now...very different," Steve sighed.

"Perhaps rekindling a little something might bring out more than you know," Thor suggested.

A laugh rolled out of Steve's throat as he clapped his hand on the blonde's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

"We'll see," he murmured. "You still coming to dinner next Saturday? You and Loki?" he questioned.

"Of course! Of course! We would not miss it for the world!" Thor boasted.

"Brother, you talk far too loud," Loki groaned, appearing in the doorway.

Loki was nothing like Thor, tall, pale, with green eyes and black hair, he was  _only_  his adopted brother after all. But he was a looker none the less, Steve might have checked him out once...or twice, when they'd first moved in. 

"Oh, hello darling," he greeted, grinning at Steve.

And he was an absolute charmer with his  _damn_  silver tongue. 

"Loki," Steve chuckled, giving him a nod in return.

"I made coffee and baked some scones would you like some?" he hummed.

"Oh gee, yeah," the blonde gushed, gesturing his thanks with his hand before slapping it against his thigh. "It'd save me time dropping into the cafe on the way to work," he added. 

"Won't be a moment, love," Loki crowed, disappearing into the apartment again.

"My brother is very fond of you, he would never bake scones for me," Thor mused.

"I'm just the favourite," Steve taunted.

Thor gasped and faked offence, causing Steve to start laughing again, until Loki appeared in the doorway again.

"What are you two laughing about now?" he sighed, handing the bag of scones and coffee cup to Steve.

The aroma from the bag was absolutely mouthwatering and Steve couldn't wait to dig into one of the scones he just knew was filled with jam and fresh cream. 

"Steve was just telling me how he is the favourite when it comes to you because you do not bake for me," Thor responded.

"I'd only bake for you if you asked me nicely," Loki scoffed.

"Now you say this," Thor huffed.

Steve smirked and tucked the scones into his bag, before stepping off to the side to press the button for the elevator.

"I better get to work. If I don't see you both later I'll see you on Saturday. Thanks again for the coffee and scones Loki," he chimed, with a grateful nod.

"Anytime my darling. Come on Thor, we've got to get to this bloody dress rehearsal at the theatre," the younger man ordered.

"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. And I’ll no longer be a Capulet," Steve recited, waving his hand dramatically as he stepped into the elevator.

"You think you are funny, wait until-" Thor stopped, suddenly cut off by the elevator doors closing.

He was certain Thor would have heard his loud, amused laugh echoing out of the small space, before it zoomed down to the bottom floor. Steve took a sip from the coffee and hummed in satisfaction, the taste absolutely perfect and just how Steve liked it. The elevator came to a halt as Steve stepped out and headed for the front doors. Once outside, he breathed a sigh of relief at the warm sun beating down on him, the sky clear of any clouds. He fished his keys out from his pocket and leisurely sauntered down the stairs, unlocking his car and listening for the beep. Steve owned both his Harley and a car, which was a gift from Tony for his birthday, a blue Chevrolet Corvette Stingray that was a convertible, even though he really didn't have to buy it. But the car was perfect for the occasions where Steve was given coffee and needed a cup holder. Plus it was a very gorgeous looking car and Steve really couldn't say no to keeping it. 

"Sorry sweetheart, I'll take you out for a ride when I get home," he spoke, tapping the newly upholstered leather seat of his Harley. 

_Everyone's going to think I'm a nutcase talking to my motorcycle_  he thought, slipping his sunglasses down over his eyes. Steve slid into the driver's seat, popping his coffee into the cup holder, the engine coming to life when he turned the key in the ignition, before tossing his bag onto the passenger seat. He slipped a CD into the stereo and pressed play, settling into the seat as Eye Of The Tiger played out of the speakers. Steve blamed his friend Peter Quill for the stash of eighties CD's in his car, and his new obsession with Footloose, Kevin Bacon, Dirty Dancing and the need to dance no matter where the hell he was. And he blamed Natasha for her mild love for ABBA and how their music wriggled its way into Steve's CD collection. When he pulled out from the curb, he turned the music up more, picking up speed as the engine roared loudly. The blonde's fingers tapped along to the music, hair whipping in the wind after he'd retracted the hood on the convertible, soaking in the sun before he'd be dwelling in the hospital. 

Bucky filtered into Steve's head again when he realised he hadn't said thank you for the gifts. Steve knew he probably should give him a call about them, or maybe a text now and again. The thing is...he didn't even know what to say. Perhaps, he may go to one of the Alcoholics Anonymous groups that he'd given Bucky leaflets for, that was if Bucky was even going to them. He could only hope he was, the last thing Steve wanted was Bucky being brought back into the ER again. The reality of it all had hit Steve pretty hard, and the whole mystery with Bucky was bothering him too. He'd spent a long time trying to get rid of his feelings for Bucky, even if they still lingered deep,  _deep_  down, he couldn't help that, no one could. Thor had some logic to what he had said, maybe Steve had to take it on board. 

_You're so hot, teasing me_

_So you're blue but I can't take a chance on a chick like you_

_That's something I couldn't do_

_There's that look in your eyes_

_I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild_

_Ah, but girl you're only a child_

Steve groaned upon hearing ABBA blasting out the speakers now.  _Damn you Natasha_  he thought. It was his favourite song and he really couldn't stop himself from humming along and dancing slightly whenever he stopped at traffic lights. At least he wasn't dancing around his apartment in his underwear which he did on the odd occasion. The last time that happened, Tony, Bruce and Sam dropped in for a surprise visit and caught the whole thing on video. Steve wasn't sure if they still had that video or not.  _God help him if they did._ He didn't really have no shame, which is why he did it, he may be a doctor, but doctors could have fun too.  _Dear god,_   _what would Bucky think of him now?_  Steve didn't even want to know how Bucky would react. 

_Well I can dance with you honey_

_If you think it's funny_

_Does your mother know that you're out?_

_And I can chat with you baby_

_Flirt a little maybe_

_Does your mother know that you're out?_

Before Steve knew it, GCH came into view as he drove onto the other side of the road and turned into the carpark. He parked his car into his usual spot, music still sounding out for all to hear. Not that Steve even paid much attention, he didn't exactly care who could hear what he had a guilty pleasure for. Steve killed the engine after the song had died down a little and grabbed his bag and coffee, before stepping out the car. The ER looked fairly quiet from the outside, not that Steve would be in there unless he was needed. With a spring in his stride, Steve whistled the remainder of his favourite song, swishing his hips from side to side. He burst through the doors and broke out into song, pointing directly at Tony who had gotten startled from Steve's sudden presence. 

"Well I can dance with you honey! If you think it's funny! Does your mother know that you're out?" he belted out.

Tony grinned smugly and pointed back at him.

"And I can chat with you baby! Flirt a little maybe! Does your mother know that you're out?" he sang back.

"Oh god," Bruce groaned.

"Oh come on!" Sam exclaimed.

"Not again," Rhodey sighed.

"Morning Steve," Tony chuckled.

"Morning," Steve replied, dumping his bag down on the desk.

"You're not working in the ER today?" Bruce piped up.

"Not unless I'm desperately needed," Steve answered, shrugging his shoulders lazily. "Plus I've got a date with some of Loki's amazing baking," he issued, grabbing the scones out of his bag.

"Aw, I want one," Tony whined, pouting and widening his eyes.

"I didn't say I wasn't going to share," he grumbled.

Tony cheered and clapped his hands.

"Loki always makes great sweet things," he commented.

"You haven't tasted mine yet," Bruce interjected.

Steve spluttered and covered his mouth with his hand, choking back his coffee before bursting into fits of laughter. Tony's cheeks were actually flushed light pink and Bruce smiled like he'd just won the fucking lottery. 

"You bastard," Tony huffed.

"No, you immediately thought it was sexual, thus, you're the bastard," Bruce rebuked.

"Uh-oh! Trouble in paradise!" Steve jested, resting his elbows on the ledge of the desk. 

"We haven't even been on our date yet Bruce, I'm offended," Tony complained.

"Get used to it," Bruce snorted.

"You're such a charmer!" Tony scoffed. 

The sound of the doors opening again, turned their attention to Scott stepping into the ER, clad in his usual paramedic uniform, backpack slung over his shoulder. He greeted everyone with a small wave after letting out an all too obvious yawn, he had a notion for not getting enough sleep. Then his gaze was on Steve, causing the blonde to raise a questioning eyebrow.

"Did I hear you playing ABBA in your car or was I just dreaming?" he asked.

"No, I was playing ABBA," Steve answered.

"Isn't that a little..." he trailed off, waving his hand in a weird gesture.

"Flamboyant?" Tony offered, sneering cheekily at Steve.

"Yeah, just a little," Scott murmured.

Steve chuckled softly and shook his head.

"Uh Scott...I'm as flamboyant as hell. Sometimes," he said.

"Wait you're gay!" Scott yelled, jabbing a finger at Steve.

Tony snorted and covered his mouth with his hand as Bruce, Sam, Steve and Rhodey stared at their friend in disbelief. 

"You're kidding right?" Tony laughed.

"Well I didn't I-" Scott paused, before frowning. "I had no idea," he added.

"If you told Steve to grab my ass and nuzzle my neck he'd do it," Tony mused. "And it's not just because we're best friends, Steve's got a real passion for ass grabbing, kissing men and dating men," he continued.

"Alright alright!" Scott squawked, flailing his arms.

Steve smirked mischievously at his friend.

"Alright, Steve, I dare you to grab Tony's ass and nuzzle his neck," he chided.

With as much sassiness as he could muster, Steve strode around the reception desk and set his gaze on Tony.  _Of course_  it was okay with Bruce, himself and Tony weren't anything serious,  _yet,_  and it was simply a joke. Tony and Steve had fooled around all the time. He moved up close to Tony, pressing himself right against his back, grinning smugly.

"Hey good lookin'," he purred.

"Oh hello doctor," Tony retorted.

"Don't mind me I'm just giving you a...thorough check up," Steve hummed, firmly grasping Tony's ass.

Tony faked a dramatic gasp before Steve nuzzled his neck and growled as  _sarcastically_  as he could. Sam, Bruce, Tony and Rhodey burst out laughing at Scott's face when he finally realised they were  _not_  kidding about Steve. 

"Believe me now?" the blonde asked, stepping away from Tony, only to swing his arm around his shoulder.

"I think you summed it up too much," Scott snorted.

" _Ah-ha!_ I win! I'm the best at this," Steve cheered.

"It wasn't even a competition from the start!" Scott grunted.

"And that is the story on how Scott found out Steve was gay, even though he has been since he was what? Fourteen?" Tony queried.

"Fifteen," Steve corrected.

Scott rolled his eyes.

"I'm so done with all of you," he muttered, waving them off as he disappeared down the hall.

The group were in hysterics again, before the laughter died down and Tony sat down in a chair, rolling it over to where Bruce was sitting. 

"Oh Steve, apparently is for you," he spoke, picking up yet another wrapped gift with silver and red paper.

"Who from?" Steve inquired.

Tony shrugged.

"One of the nurses said she saw someone droppin' it off this morning," Sam informed.

"Did she see what they looked like?" Steve continued.

"Brunette, hair was tied back, blue-grey eyes, male, had a five o'clock shadow, looked a little rugged and tired. Said he looked familiar. Sounded like Bucky I think," Sam explained.

Steve immediately perked up at the description, knowing full well it was Bucky. He heard an accusing noise from Tony, turning to see him pointing a finger at him.

"Now that...is the look of a lovesick puppy," he accused.

"I'm not-fuck you Tony," the blonde growled.

"Later honey, later," the brunette retorted.

"Come on Steve, we all know you never got over him," Tony taunted.

"It was a long time ago," Steve bit back.

"I think we should stop, seems like a touchy subject. It'll make him stressed," Bruce interjected.

"You're damn right," Steve snapped, before cringing. "Sorry..." he whispered, taking the gift from Tony and unwrapping it quickly. 

"Is it okay if I take a scone, or will you want to bite my dick off with your razor sharp teeth again?" Tony questioned. 

It cracked a small smile on Steve's face, which was progress.

"Help yourself," he replied.

He stared down at the medium size box, again with his name engraved on the fine timber, in silver and cursive writing. Steve flicked the small lock on it and opened it to reveal an assortment of pencils, pens, erasers and a few paints. It was expensive stuff and Steve could feel tears well in the corner of his eyes, hardly understanding why he even deserved these gifts. 

"Steve, you alright man?" Sam drawled.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine..." he choked out, blinking the tears back.

_Not now Steve_  he told himself. 

"Look, I know it's a touchy subject, but Bucky seems pretty eager to fix the wounds from the past," Sam mumbled.

Steve nodded slowly, closing the box as he sat it by his bag. 

"I think I'm going to go and visit him at one of the groups, that I hope he's going to," he mused. 

"'Atta boy," Tony chimed, taking a huge bite out of a scone and moaning. "My god, I'm going to marry that man Loki I swear," he added.

"Ahem," Bruce coughed, in annoyance.

"After I've gone on my date with you of course, I'll leave you and elope with Loki at midnight," he teased.

"Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie a man after midnight," Steve sang, doing a dance with the small space that he had between the desk and Tony.

"Won't somebody help me chase these shadows away," Tony chorused, and dancing in his chair.

"Where's Scott when you need him?" Rhodey joked.

Laughter filled the room again, a mix of sharp and deep throaty laughs, and loud enough to probably be heard outside. Steve was leaning against the desk, his hand clapped on his left pec as his whole body trembled. A full body laugh was something that Steve enjoyed the most when he couldn't control his laughter anymore. 

"We're never gonna' let him live that down," he cackled.

Suddenly, out of the blue, someone cleared their throat loudly, bringing the hilarity to an immediate halt. Steve's attention fell on Peggy who was standing by the water cooler, hair pinned back in loose curls, dressed in a striking knee length red dress that fit her figure perfectly. He could see the unamused look on her face having heard all the laughter which meant no work was getting done.

"Quite finished with your laughter now are we gentleman?" she asked.

"You got it Peggy," Tony responded.

"Stark, I hope you're enjoying that scone while it lasts, because it will be your last if I see you eating in the reception area again," she crowed.

Upon hearing that, Steve gingerly pushed the scone he'd picked out back into the bag without any noise. Peggy was a wonderful person, when she wasn't working, her work ethic was somewhat different to everyone else's. She wasn't cruel, or stubborn, she was more so a workaholic, to put it lightly. 

"Steve, can I see you in my office please?" she hummed, bringing Steve out from his trance.

"Uh, sure, if it doesn't take too long I have patients to see," he answered.

"Only a small chat," Peggy assured him.

Steve nodded sharply and picked up his coffee as he gave everyone else a reassuring look. 

"I'm outta' here," Sam whispered, slipping past Steve to head down to the bathrooms. 

The blonde coughed back a small laugh as he followed Peggy down the dim lit hallway to her office. He'd have to talk to Peter about coming in to fix some of the electrical work in the hospital. It was a disgrace that the place looked so run down when it was the best hospital in the city. Steve sighed deeply and walked beside Peggy, taking a few quiet sips of his coffee now and again. 

"I heard about your rather busy night on Friday," Peggy spoke up.

"Oh?" Steve breathed out.

Peggy smiled softly and pushed the door open to her office, letting Steve in first, before closing the door behind her. Steve sat in the chair in front of her desk as she sauntered around to the other side and sat down in her chair, rolling it closer so she could rest her arms on the desk. It was then that Steve could feel a dose of anxiety starting to linger in the pit of his stomach. He usually wasn't called to Peggy's office on a day like this. 

"I wanted to ask you about your patient," she continued.

"What about him?" Steve tested.

"I heard that you two have a past," she murmured.

"I wouldn't call it a past, we-I-" Steve faltered. "He and I didn't get along, it was a long time ago, in high school. It's nothing, really," he added.

"I'll be the judge of that," Peggy rebuked, leaning a little more on her elbows. "You didn't clock off until 4am on Saturday morning," she mused.

"I was monitoring Bu-Mr Barnes," Steve uttered.

"Were you? Honestly?" Peggy quizzed. 

"Yes!" the blonde replied, voice raising a little. 

"How can I be sure? From what I know, Mr Barnes was favoured by you for a number of different reasons," Peggy answered.

"This was in high school!" he protested. 

His defensive mode was starting to kick in, alarms screaming in his head at the sudden accusation. It was one thing having to see Bucky again, yet another to be accused of breaking doctor and patient protocol. At least, that's where Peggy was directing it to.

"I know that temptation would have been visible then," Peggy reasoned.

"There was no temptation! What the hell Peggy? How can you sit there and accuse me of something I didn't do! I understand you're the Chief of Staff, but you need to hear this, from me," he argued. "I was monitoring Bucky's breathing because it seemed to drop every now and then. I wasn't going to leave him until I was certain he was going to make it through the night. He woke up around 3am and I explained to him what happened. I told him he knew me, it was a shock for him, but he had to know. Then he got a little emotional so I consoled him. You know me Peggy! You know I do this! Why is  _he_  any different?" he hissed, dropping his coffee into the bin by the desk. "What else do you want me to say? I didn't overstep any boundaries you know I would never ever do that. Just because I know someone doesn't mean I'll treat them any different to my other patients. But I saved his life, I owe him that much," he sighed, dropping his head into his hand.

Peggy averted her gaze for a moment, tapping her knuckles on the hard timber of her desk.

"Perhaps I jumped to conclusions too quickly. I'm sorry Steve, I shouldn't judge you like that. You are...one of our finest doctors here and I am forever grateful," she issued.

"And technically he isn't my patient anymore, so whatever happens outside this hospital. It's my business... _not_ yours," Steve ground out. 

"Noted...although-" she paused, upon seeing Steve raise his hand.

"Spare me the warnings Peggy. I know what I'm doing. I want to fix the past. I'm helping a  _friend,_ " he warned.

"Just a friend?" the brunette asked.

" _Just,_ a friend," the blonde confirmed, standing from his chair. 

_What a fucking lie._

"Can I go now?" he questioned, directing his hand to the door.

"Yes, yes of course," Peggy responded, pulling folders towards herself.

Steve only turned swiftly and exited the room, closing the door a little too harshly. He had to get his point across, he couldn't let people assume he was chasing Bucky's tail.  _Was there really anything wrong if he did?_  The blonde shook his head and took a deep breath, before exhaling slowly as he made his way back to the reception. By then it was only Tony and Bruce at reception, with Scott appearing again with a plate of hot food. 

"Hey, if it isn't the eighties guru," Scott chuckled, through a mouthful of food.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up why don't ya'," Steve scoffed, snatching his bag from the counter and tossing the bag of scones to Tony. 

"Steve, are you okay?" Tony inquired.

"Fine, perfectly fine. I'm just not hungry anymore," Steve muttered, before picking up patient folders.

"Steve what's wrong?" the brunette pressed on.

"Nothing!" Steve yelled, eyes locked on Tony, narrowed and angry. "I just-" he stopped,  shaking his head as he swallowed thickly. "I need to get to work," he added.

The trio watched Steve disappear down the hallway he'd just been down, an unusual quickness to his step. Tony turned to Bruce who had a worried expression on his face, his fingers idly hoovering over the keyboard of the computer. Scott turned back to face the pair with as much confusion on his face as he could muster.

"Did I miss something?" he questioned.

"Steve's having an off day, we just need to give him some space. He's still shaken from Barnes, and probably still coming to terms with the fact that Barnes is now trying to make an effort to talk to him. Do you know how hard it must be for him to see the guy who beat him up almost die and then treat him like an absolute hero all of a sudden?" Tony ranted.

"No, I wouldn't know," Scott mumbled.

"Exactly. So we should maybe leave Steve alone," Tony offered. 

"You kept teasing him about Bucky, part of it is _your_ fault," Bruce interrupted.

Tony chewed on his bottom lip and looked down at the bag of scones in his lap.

"I know. And I feel guilty now," he groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"He'll come around, right? He's Steve," Scott commented.

"Yeah..." Tony trailed off. "Yeah he'll come around," he huffed out.

But deep down, Tony knew that it wasn't just about the demons in Steve's past...it was something far deeper and more complex than even Steve himself knew. 

* * *

**Queens**

**Monday 27th July**

**4pm**  

Bucky's nervous, so _fucking_ nervous he feels like he's going to puke or faint. For the past week he'd contemplated on  _actually_  going to the Alcoholics Anonymous group therapy sessions in Queens. He'd started off only talking on the phone to one of the main people that ran the groups. Natasha Romanov, her name was and Bucky was thankful she was patient and calm with him while he was speaking. She ran the business with her husband Clint Barton who she'd actually met during an AA session three years ago. Bucky clicked with her straight away, knowing that she would be an easy friend to keep a hold of. 

It made him feel relaxed, like he could tell his whole life story to her, but he'd only told her bits and pieces. If it hadn't been for him bumping into her while doing his regular afternoon coffee run yesterday, he wouldn't have found himself standing outside the building, absolutely shaking with anxiety. Natasha had said it was about time he started to show at the actual group sessions so he could surround himself with other people with the same issues, and to socialise more. Bucky hadn't made any new friends since Afghanistan, save for Natasha, and there was always that lingering feeling of guilt and worry boiling up inside him. 

He stood outside with the warmth of the sun beating down on him, hair pulled back into a messy bun, sunglasses propped on his face. He'd been wondering why the hell he was sweating so much, thinking it was the anxiety. But  _no,_  the idiot that he was sometimes, dressed in all black that day. Black leather jacket, black jeans that were _too_ fucking tight for his own good, black lace up combat boots and a black Green Day shirt.  _Good job Bucky, well played_  he told himself. He kept his left hand tucked into one of the pockets, too many weird looks from citizens on his short walk to the facility had him on edge about showing his hand in public still, let alone his entire arm. 

With as much confidence as he could manage, Bucky forced himself up the stairs and through the glass doors, stopping in the middle of the large lobby. There seemed to be multiple different areas in that one building, AA groups, VA groups, Quit Smoking groups and... _yoga groups?_  Bucky scoffed at the smoking one,  _god,_  he'd wished he'd had a cigarette before he even got inside. He had a mental fist fight with his brain, before looking around to try and find the right room, feeling his heart rate spike immediately. 

_"Hail, hail. What's the matter with your head, yeah. Hail, hail. What's the matter with your mind. And your sign an-a, oh-oh-oh. Hail, hail. Nothin' the matter with your head. Baby find it, come on and find it. Hail, with it baby. 'Cause you're fine. And you're mine, and you look so divine,"_

Bucky raised an eyebrow and turned to the sound of the voice, clocking a guy over by a light switch. Tall, with semi-light to dark hair, scruff, big bright eyes, Bucky would kid himself if he didn't give him a once over...which turned out to be more like five times. Then there was the cassette player resting on his waist with the cassette working perfectly well.  _Damn,_  Bucky hadn't seen one of them in years and he'd lost his when he had one. Good looking guys everywhere, Bucky just couldn't help himself. That is, until he thought of Steve and felt that flutter deep in his belly that made him ache. 

"Hey buddy!" he called, taking a few steps forward.

His presence wasn't detected until he got much closer then froze when something furry jumped out at him. Bucky yelped and jumped back, only to look down and see a baby raccoon clawing up his jeans. 

"What the fuck!" the brunette exclaimed, trying to shake it off, alerting the man immediately.

"Hey, hey! Watch it man!" he shouted, crouching down to the floor. "Rocket, no, come here," he commanded.

The animal made a small squeaking noise, before jumping off of Bucky's leg and high tailing it back to the man, scrambling into his tool belt pouch.

"Who has a fucking raccoon in their pocket?" Bucky squawked, hands clasped in his hair.

"I do," the older man scoffed.

"And you are?" Bucky questioned.

"Haven't you heard of me?" he asked.

"Uh, should I?" Bucky huffed.

"I'm only the best maintenance man in Queens. Peter Quill of Star-Lord Maintenance," Peter laughed, in surprise. 

"Oh right, yeah I know you," Bucky chuckled, shaking his head.

"Really?" Peter chimed, eyes lighting up a little.

"No," Bucky muttered, his resting bitch face coming into play now. "I don't live in Queens so I wouldn't know pal," he added.

"Oh. From where do you hail then my good man?" Peter queried, sounding like a pompous little fuck.

"Are you just pretending to be a maintenance guy and you're actually here for one of the help groups?" Bucky taunted.

Peter laughed loudly.

"Hilarious. You're a real comedian. I like you. What's your name?" he hummed, holding his hand out for Bucky to shake. 

"James Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky. I'm from Brooklyn by the way," the younger man introduced. 

"Ah, I thought I could hear the accent in your voice. I go to Brooklyn sometimes to visit a friend," Peter mused. "Nice to meet you, Bucky," he said.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. 

"As of now, we're friends, alright? Consider it a gift for my little bastard of a pet spooking you like that," Peter issued.

"He's your pet?" Bucky snorted, earning him a growl from the raccoon who decided to show again. 

"Yeah, found him abandoned in some alleyway, so I've been mothering him. Or fathering him, I guess," Peter corrected.

"Cute," the brunette crowed.

"So can I help you with anything? I mean I know this place front and back," Peter offered.

"I'm actually looking for the AA group with uh, Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton running it," Bucky responded.

"Oh yeah, glad you're going with them, they're pretty nice people. They're in that room over there," Peter answered, pointing to the room diagonally to where they were standing. 

"Thanks pal," Bucky sighed, in relief, clapping his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Oh and I'll be...taking one of these," he continued, plucking a business card from Peter's belt. "Gotta' have your number," he whispered, shooting Peter a wink.

"That's smooth Barnes, smooth!" Peter called to him, as Bucky walked away, throwing a small wave over his shoulder as he sauntered to the room.

He approached the room and tucked the card into his pocket, hands sliding into his jacket pockets swiftly afterwards. What surprised him the most was hearing music playing away in the background over all the chatting in the room. Not to mention it was alternative rock at that moment and Bucky was kicking himself for not showing up sooner. The brunette stood in the open doorway, feeling like a prize prick because he didn't move any further. He used to be the once confident Bucky Barnes, now crippled with anxiety he lost all that confidence long ago.  _Thank god he still had his charm._

"Alright Pietro, we get it," a voice complained.

"What? You didn't see that coming?" another voice spoke.

It sounded foreign and Bucky wanted to bail already, foreigners made him weak at the knees. But it was too late, for Natasha had obviously sensed the awkward little muffin by the door and smiled widely. 

"Bucky, hi," she crooned, waving him over.

Bucky managed ever so timidly to walk over to Natasha without drawing too much attention to himself. She welcomed him with a warming hug and Bucky could have burst into tears right there and then. He hadn't been hugged in six years now since his mom had passed away, before he'd even thought about joining the army. His dad fucked off to Europe when he was sixteen, needless to say he despised the bastard. Bucky had been starved from touch for so long, he ended up letting out a shuddering breath and Natasha hugged him tighter.

"It's alright sweetie, you're alright," she soothed, rubbing his back comfortingly. "I'm glad you're here. You're being really brave," she praised.

"It's nice to see you again," Bucky choked out, pulling away from the hug.

He smiled and dropped his hands down to the swell of Natasha's five month baby bump, feeling her eyes on him as she grinned happily. When they'd first met he'd crooned over the bump, asking if he could feel if the baby was kicking. That's how instantly Natasha and Bucky had commented.

"How's James?" he asked.

Natasha smiled sadly.

"James, isn't a James," she replied.

Bucky frowned and crouched down a little, drawing a sad face on Natasha's belly with his finger.

"Traitor," he grumbled.

Natasha let out a small laugh as Bucky stood up straighter and glanced over her shoulder.

"You must be Clint," he greeted.

"The one and only. Great to meet you," Clint chimed.

"I should be saying it's great to meet you because yourself and Natasha are helping so many people. Nice shirt by the way," he commented, tugging lightly on the fabric with a sly grin.

Clint's face went scarlet as he faltered on his words, eyes darting everywhere but at Bucky. Natasha was hiding her laughter behind her hand, the other resting on her bump as she stood beside Clint. 

"That means he likes you honey," she breathed out, pecking a kiss on her husband's cheek. 

Bucky smirked smugly.

"I really like the touch with the music though. And I really love this song," he said, eyes widening a fraction.

"You like Disturbed?" Clint gasped.

"Hell yes!" Bucky exclaimed.

"Dude, up top," Clint laughed, holding his hand up.

The brunette chuckled and high-fived Clint, before realising it was his metal hand, panic washing over him. 

"Bucky, it's okay," Natasha interjected, resting her hand on the prosthetic. 

"Yeah man, it's fine, we're not all perfect. I'm deaf, I have hearing aids in, sometimes. Usually Natasha signs to me," Clint mused.

"Sorry...I'm still trying to get comfortable with it, even though it's been two years since I got it," the brunette mumbled.

"We understand Bucky, that's what we're here for," Natasha assured him. "Come on, let's introduce you to the rest of the group. Everyone's been eager to meet you actually. I think by the end of this session you'll be walking out with new friends," she added, ushering him over to the empty seat between two other guys. 

While that should have been reassuring, Bucky sucked in a deep breath as everyone in the circle stood up, only to be told to sit back down. The first two he met were Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier, who Bucky could only guess were a couple going by the matching wedding rings around their ring fingers.  _What's with all the good looking men dammit!_  Bucky screamed in his mind.

"Hello James, I hope it's alright if I address you by James," Charles spoke, shaking Bucky's hand.

"Oh yeah, fine, whatever suits you best," Bucky said, smiling kindly. "Nice to meet you both," he hummed.

"Likewise," Erik answered, shaking his hand also.

They moved onto the next two, who Bucky could only guess were a couple also, considering the brunette was sitting in the blonde's lap and they were being pretty mushy. Natasha slapped them gently upside the head and crossed her arms over her chest.

"We have a new member joining us, stop the lovey dovey stuff and make him feel welcome," she scolded.

"Oh yes mother," the blonde chided.

"Wade," Natasha grunted.

"Sorry! Sorry! You know me, I can't help but joke!" he protested.

"Bucky, this is Wade Wilson and his boyfriend Peter Parker. Watch yourself around Wade, he's a little shit," she warned.

Bucky outright laughed at the shocked look on Wade's face and Natasha's laid back attitude. He shook hands with them just as the back door opened out to a small balcony obviously for people who wanted to go outside for a smoke. Bucky's gaze fell on the man that stepped inside, hair windswept, his facial hair pretty scruffy, he looked like a bit of a lumberjack. Then the man looked up and Bucky had to do a double take, a shocked sound escaping his throat.

"Logan?" Bucky tested.

"What the-" he paused. "Barnes?" he added, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh my god, they told me you were dead!" Bucky yelled, quickly making his way over to him.

"They told me  _you_  were killed!" Logan called back. 

"Fucking hell man, it's good to see you," Bucky wavered.

They met halfway and embraced each other tightly, clapping each other on the back. Bucky couldn't hold back his tears as he smiled with joy, swallowing some of them back. 

"What the hell happened out there?" Logan interrogated, as they parted from the hug.

"Horrible things pal. Horrible things it just-" Bucky stopped, shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I lost everyone and then I thought you were gone because I couldn't find you. Look, I'm sure I'll be retelling the story at this session, so, how about I leave it for then?" he offered.

"Sure, sure...I can't believe you're still here," Logan sighed.

"Me too, good to see you again," Bucky chuckled, his voice rough and wet from the tears.

Natasha was wiping her own tears away, Clint hugging her into his side, everyone else's attention on the reunion. Bucky and Logan parted ways as Logan sat between Wade, Peter, Erik and Charles, leaving Bucky to greet the last three people. The only other woman at the group smiled warmly at him, extending her hand which was adorned with rings, her lips a cherry red, hair long and flowing over her shoulders.

"Hi, I'm Wanda Maximoff," she greeted.

Her accent sounded familiar to the one he'd heard earlier, only belonging to a male and it seemed he was the one sitting next to Wanda. He was young, with salt and pepper coloured hair, light stubble and a cheeky grin on his face. 

"And this, is my brother, Pietro," she continued.

"Hello Bucky," Pietro piped up, holding his hand out.

_Fuck me I can't do this it's too much_  Bucky thought, taking Pietro's hand.

"H-hi," he stammered, mentally scolding himself. "Where are you guys from?" he inquired.

"Sokovia," Wanda replied.

"Where's that?" Bucky asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's in Europe, between Austria and the Czech Republic. But our true country of origin is Transia, which is between Romanian and Serbia," Pietro interjected.

"Huh, sounds awesome," the brunette gushed.

Finally, he reached the last person in the group, throat going dry as he gawked at the man who stood up. Dark hair, dark eyes, the god damn stubble.  _I'm dead, I am really dead_  Bucky thought. He couldn't help his involuntary action of discreetly running his tongue over his bottom lip. That only earned him a smile that could kill from the man in front of him, dark eyes watching him intently. Bucky couldn't hold back his somewhat weak smile as he held out his hand.

"Bucky Barnes," he puffed out.

"Brock Rumlow," the older man replied.

"Nice tattoo," Bucky mused, pointing to the one on his bicep.

Rumlow grinned then, glancing at his tattoo, before he gently pushed the fabric of Bucky's collar to the side.

"Same back to you," he complimented, brushing his thumb over the military themed tattoo.

_Fucking fucker_  Bucky cursed internally, breath hitching in his throat. 

"Alright, I think we can start this session now," Natasha interrupted, shaking her head with a soft smile at Rumlow.

"Can you feel the love tonight!" Wade sang, from the other side of the circle.

Bucky scoffed.

"Bite me Wade," he jeered.

"Wade you better watch yourself, he's got bite," Rumlow added, dropping back down to his chair. 

"Yeah, Wade," Bucky rebuked, poking his tongue out at the younger man.

"Oh hello, he's got his tongue pierced," Pietro snickered, his accent heavy on his tongue.

"Yeah, the army does that to ya'," the brunette replied, taking his place between Pietro and Rumlow. 

"Okay, let's get this started then. Bucky, I think since Natasha and I have heard everyone else's stories already, we might start with yours. And everyone else can tell you theirs afterwards," Clint spoke, sitting down next to Rumlow with Natasha on his other side. 

The brunette nodded slowly.

"Sure, that seems fair," he said.

Meanwhile, outside, Steve pulled up to the curb, Harley purring beautifully until he pulled the key from the ignition. He'd left work early around 2:30pm and drove home, before getting showered, dressed and then taking the twenty-eight minute drive to Queens to visit Bucky.  _Yes,_  he'd only planned on going there to see Bucky, if he was there at all, but was actually pretty eager to see Natasha and Clint as well. Tony had introduced him to them when he'd joined GCH, their friendship fired up quickly and Steve after all was going to be the godfather of Natasha and Clint's kid when she arrived. 

He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, smoothing down the creases on his red Henley as he stepped off the Harley. Steve was a Henley collector, a large majority were red, yet he had a few grey and black ones thrown in.  _God forbid if anyone saw him in a black Henley, they'd be organising their funeral. Or god forbid anyone who saw him in his red Henley, grey jeans and and lumberjack boots, they'd just need to send themselves straight to hell._ He jogged up the stairs and wandered through the doors, grinning when he saw Peter over by a vending machine, Rocket perched on his shoulder.

"Hey Star-Lord!" he shouted, with a mischievous grin.

"Hey! Steve! What brings you to Queens!" Peter cheered.

"Here to see someone," he answered. 

"Anyone I know?" Peter queried, raising an eyebrow.

" _Ooh_ , I dunno'," Steve whistled, shrugging his shoulders. "Did you see a really gorgeous looking brunette walk in earlier?" he asked.

"I did actually," his friend murmured.

"Really?" Steve replied.

"Yeah, had his hair tied in a bun, dressed all in black, don't know why he wasn't complaining about the heat. Said his name was Bucky," Peter explained.

_Holy shit_  Steve thought. 

"Right...um, which room?" he questioned.

Peter pointed over to the room where he'd directed Bucky to earlier, smirking as if he just  _knew_  what the look on Steve's face. 

"Thanks buddy. Hey, we still good for Saturday?" he hummed.

"You know I never miss out on dinner nights!" Peter scoffed.

"Great I'll see you then," Steve chuckled, as he made his way over to the room, hearing multiple voices at once.

"Guys quiet, it's Bucky's turn to speak," Natasha lectured.

_That's my girl_  Steve thought, laughing to himself.

"Everyone shush, the war vet is talking," Wade huffed out.

Steve stopped in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt the session as he glanced around the room. He only recognised Natasha and Clint sitting at their usual spot, Natasha's hands rubbing small circles on her baby bump. The blonde couldn't help but fawn at it, he'd treated kids and babies at the hospital and he adored them a lot. Clint looked relaxed in his usual plaid flannel with a band shirt and loose jeans. Then there was Bucky, sitting in between two other guys who Steve didn't know, but he saw the way the guy on Bucky's left was watching him with interest. What Steve didn't expect was to feel a stab of  _fricking_  jealously jolt through his chest as he crossed his arms over his chest. Bucky looked healthy, a lot healthier than what Steve had seen him as over a week ago. The brunette rubbed his hands together, prosthetic and flesh hand, a few loose strands of his hair hanging over his face. He still had that rough and tough look about him, but his eyes told a completely different story, Steve always caught that back in high school.

"You really haven't changed Buck," Steve whispered, leaning himself against the doorframe. 

Yet he wondered just how much Bucky had changed mentally and emotionally, not just physically. With what looked like a very shaky and agonising breath, Bucky's lips parted to speak, flushed red like he'd been nervously chewing on them for hours.

"My problem with alcohol started after I was discharged from Afghanistan. But there was a lot more before hand that probably triggered it too. I had a pretty great childhood, loving mom, loving dad, had a younger sister too, Rebecca. Her and I were like two peas in a pod, always pulling pranks on each other, always helping each other if someone was mean to either of us. Then when I was ten I-" Bucky paused, covering his mouth with his hand, the cold metal tingling his warm skin. "We were playing in the backyard, I threw the frisbee too hard and it landed in a tree and I told Becca to stay where she was so I could go get a ladder and go get it. Mom was inside cooking and dad was in his workshop which was further down from us, we lived in the countryside at the time. So I went and fetched the ladder and when I came back, Becca was up in the tree and I started yelling at her, telling her to come back down. She said 'it's okay Bucky I can get it!'. I kept calling out to her saying 'Becca please come back down!'...she wouldn't listen. Then she lost her footing when she went to climb up the last branch, she fell and I remember screaming and running towards her but I knew I wasn't fast enough. She fell onto a concrete slab...broke her neck," he choked out, his eyes falling closed as tears threatened to spill. 

"Oh Bucky," Wanda spoke up, getting out of her seat to kneel beside him and take his hand in hers. "It wasn't your fault," she soothed. 

"Everything changed then, absolutely  _everything._  We moved back to Brooklyn where I was born. Dad blamed me for Rebecca's death. Sometimes he'd wish it was me, not her and mom would get angry with him. Mom and dad started fighting a lot because of it. Then dad turned to drinking when I was thirteen, it got pretty bad. He started taking everything out on me and I'd end up with a new bruise to show at school everyday. Some of the teachers started asking me where I got them from and I just said I was a clumsy kid. Somehow they believed me, even though I was hurting inside. When I turned sixteen dad fucked off to Europe, went to Russia or Romanian, I don't know. I didn't fucking care, I thought good riddance to you pal. I haven't seen him since then, I don't even think he's set foot in America again. Hell, I don't know, he could be dead for all I know," Bucky continued. "So it was only mom and I, with our memories of Becca, my little sister that I didn't get to see grow up, get married, have kids, whatever she wanted to do in life. Not a day goes by where I don't think about her and it's still embedded in my head that she'd still be here if I'd taken her with me to get the ladder. I'm twenty-six and I still haven't forgiven myself, I beat myself up about it everyday," he added.

Steve's heart broke as he listened to the story unfold, his thumb swiping at the corners of his eyes. He was beginning to understand why Bucky must have wanted to pick on him, he himself was hurting inside, his dad probably influenced the violence but... _what could he do?_

"High school was when I was at my worst. I wanted to make other people feel my suffering so I found joy in bullying them. At first I picked a few people at a time. And then...and then I found out about this kid, Steve, apparently he really liked me, you know those high school crushes you get," the brunette breathed out, smiling shakily. "The thing was, I really liked him back. He was smart, beautiful and interesting. I didn't care that he was basically a bag of bones, he had a lot of crappy health issues going on. I felt for him, I really did. But I had a reputation, the guys I hung around with were the biggest dicks I've ever met. They were homophobic to no end and they'd always catcall at Steve whenever he walked past and I'd join in because they'd start to suspect things. All I wanted to do was get out of there and run after Steve. I hurt him. I hurt him so badly I think one time I feared that I might end up putting him in hospital with how fragile he was. I wish I could take back everything I did to him. Last Friday, he saved my life. Turns out after high school he moved to London and he grew up, he grew up into this handsome fella' and he became a doctor and he saved  _my_  life. Me of all people who probably deserved to die in that hospital that night," he sighed.

"Bucky no, don't you dare say that," Charles snapped, his tone laced with worry.

"I'm sorry I just...I thought that when I saw him he should have left me to die. After everything I did to him. But he still saved me, because that's his job. When I'd found out he'd moved to London after high school, I started getting into fights, I tried anything to feel some sort of ache, but it wasn't enough. Mom passed away six years ago, my world ended right there and then because she was my  _everything,_ she was my security blanket. Three years ago I joined the army and I was sent off to Afghanistan, Logan, was part of The Howling Commandos with a few more guys, Dum Dum Dugan, Gabe Jones, Jim Morita, James Montgomery Falsworth, and Jacques Dernier. We were on our way to flank the enemy from a different position, without knowing we'd been spotted already, I should have known..." Bucky trailed off, swallowing thickly. 

_The heat was unbearable as The Howling Commandos trekked across the baron desert land to move into a different position. Bucky couldn't see from the sweat running into his eyes, standing up front and quietly leading the team to their designated checkpoint. They'd gotten caked in dirt from the dust storms and crawling in it when moving into position to start firing their weapons. The rations were going to be the death of Bucky, considering his stomach seemed to disagree with half of it. No showers meant smelling like you belonged in the trash. If anything, the best they could manage was scrubbing themselves with water to get dirt off. Even then they'd have to scratch their skin until it was red raw before any dirt budged. Sleeping on the floor led to back aches and muscle pains, yet Bucky had been getting used to the hard surface of the ground, still desperately wishing he was back in the comfort of his own bed._

_Every night he'd sit out on the dusty mounds around their base camp, sketching in a small notebook he'd thrown in his duffel bag at the last minute. All the sketches ended up turning into Steve, skinny Steve with his great big smile and mop of blonde hair on his head. Somewhere on his person Bucky had a picture of Steve, ripped out from the high school yearbook. Then there was the dog tags, the ones he'd picked up at prom with Steve's name and date of birth engraved on it. Bucky kept them, hoping he could have given them back to Steve, but that was before he'd found out Steve had left for London. If he died out in Afghanistan he'd know that he'd died for good reason. He was doing his service for his country, for freedom, for his mom...for Steve. If he died, he'd die with a smile on his face and he'd even had a letter written out for Steve to see if it ever came to that._

_Which is why March 10th 2012 was the day he thought he was done for. He'd just turned twenty-three, and as terrible of a place that it was, The Commandos and the rest of the 107th sang happy birthday to him before they ventured out. They were passing over a hill, dirt and rocks crunching under their boots, guns held in their hands, armed and ready just in case. The weight of their armour and heavy clothing made it harder to scale up hills when it was sweltering hot and you had to ration your water, at that time. Bucky could feel the straps holding a pack with medical supplies and extra ammo in it pulling against his chest and he held back a groan as he tried to shake it loose._

_"How we doing here Sergeant Barnes?" Logan panted, coming up beside Bucky._

_Their Captain was a good for nothing scumbag, unwilling to sacrifice his life for the safety and freedom of others. Bucky shouldn't have been leading these men out, but they had a mission and he wasn't going to waste time. If it wasn't illegal to murder someone Bucky would have put a bullet in Alexander Pierce's head a long fucking time ago. How no one had picked up on his lack of skill in being a Captain was a riddle to Bucky. Yet at least he got along with the other men and they listened to him more than they did Pierce._

_"We shouldn't be too far. But Pierce can kiss my pretty white Brooklyn ass. I can't believe he acted like we were mindless idiots or something. Doesn't he know how to be-" Bucky never finished._

_From behind him a blast went off, screams echoing in his ears as well as the loud ringing. Bucky staggered forward and turned around to see two of the Commandos, dead, their blood pooling into the dirt, limbs blown off or barely hanging on. The brunette's eyes widened as he breathed shakily, chest heaving erratically, heart pounding a million miles a minute. They had to fall back, there had to be more than one explosive planted where they were._

_"Fall back! Fall back!" he ordered, waving his hand to the remaining members of his team._

_He grabbed Logan by the arm as they ran for it, tumbling down the hill, discarding their guns to lighten their weight. Dugan, Jones and Dernier were a few metres away when Bucky noticed a tripwire, stopping himself abruptly._

_"Stop! There's a tripwire!" he yelled, voice hoarse and choked from the smoke and dust._

_His voice sounded drowned out, time slowing as he gripped onto Logan's arm tighter. Even him yelling to his men didn't stop them running right into the tripwire, their gazes falling on Bucky, and only him. The second blast was more intense and Bucky couldn't help the scream that left his lungs watching the rest of his team getting killed, three separate explosions following afterwards. What was left of his team made Bucky's stomach churn as he looked away, tears stinging at his eyes. In that time he hadn't realised his grip on Logan had loosened, the dust and smoke blurring his vision._

_"Logan!" he called._

_Bucky knew traipsing through the fire and smoke was making himself an open target for their enemy. But a good soldier didn't leave anyone behind, and Logan was all he had left. A third blast sounded and Bucky got the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that Logan had triggered it. He stumbled on a rock and skidded down on his knees, gloves digging into the jagged rocks which managed to slice through the thick material. Bucky coughed loudly as he weaved through more smoke, fairly certain he was running through his team mates blood, his throat clenching as he gagged at the stench._

_"Sergeant Barnes!"_

_They hadn't walked far from base, the explosions were surely loud enough to alert the rest of the 107th waiting for new orders._

_"Sergeant Barnes!"_

_The voice rang in his head, droning in and out of his ears as he pushed through the billowing particles that choked his lungs._

_"Sergeant Barnes! Tripwire!"_

_He felt it, the wire grazing under his knee, his entire body freezing in his tracks. What came next was agony, an agony Bucky had wanted to feel when he'd gotten into fights after knowing Steve had fled for London. The type of agony that couldn't be expressed with words, only with gut wrenching screams and floods of tears. He was forced down another embankment, pain felt on his left side, and his head when he'd hit a solid wall of a ruined home. Bucky lay sprawled on the ground, the sun beating down on him as sweat more so fell down his forehead in waves. His head turned to the side, teeth clenched, the pain growing more and more as he stared at his bloodied arm. Or what was left of it, his bicep the only part still connected to his shoulder, blood oozing from other parts of his body from shrapnel._

_"Someone get a medic! We need help now!"_

_The sky started to blur as Bucky stared at it, his lungs constricting from the lack of clean oxygen he was breathing in, tears streaming down his face. Bucky mourned there, he cried for his friends, his team, it got to the point where he screamed himself hoarse. When help arrived he was too far gone to even scream anymore, feeling weak and light headed as pressure was put on his wounds. All he could muster was small whimpers of suffering, his body trembling as he started sobbing hysterically. It wasn't until they moved him that he couldn't help the wail that escaped his throat, the pain no worse than grief._

His screaming echoed in his head as Bucky brought himself back to reality after telling the story, sobs scratching at his throat as his head fell into his hands. Wanda was consoling him by his side still, Pietro's hand now on his arm and Brock's hand running up and down his back. He breathed in weakly, letting out punched out gasps every now and again. _Hell,_ everyone crowded in closer to offer their support, Logan mostly because he knew how scared he'd been to lose Bucky at some point, wondering if he'd made it out. 

"Their blood is on my hands," he cried. "Every one of them, it's my fault they're dead," he added, shaking his head. 

Over by the door, Steve was trembling violently, silencing his cries with a hand over his mouth, eyes screwed shut as he held his head low. It all made sense, everything with the bullying, Bucky had been in pain, he'd been struggling. Steve shouldn't really let him go for what happened, but what Tony had said to him had been right. Most bullies had issues of their own and here Bucky was breaking his heart to tell the story all over again. The blonde rested his hand against his chest as he spun himself around to lean against the outside of the door, head falling back against the hard wood. 

"After I was honourably discharged I stayed in Manhattan for a while. Then I moved back to Brooklyn, found a job, which bought me decent food, an apartment with semi-decent furnishings, my car and my tattoos. Like I said, I got inked and pierced when I came back from my service. I was lucky to be alive and only to lose an arm while my friends lost their lives, but god was I glad to see Logan, part of me feels at peace now. Two years ago I got my prosthetic and I'm still not used to it, I'm still self-conscious about it. The tattoo under my collar is an army helmet and boots, with The Howling Commandos names on dog tags, that's when I got my dog tags too, which I chained onto Steve's. I got a tattoo dedicated to Steve because I wanted to try and mend the past even if I couldn't see him in person to try and mend it face to face. That was when the drinking happened and I became much like my dad and my PTSD was a hell of a thing to manage. I'm still getting nightmares but not as much now, I'm slowly healing. I guess you could say my drinking got so bad that when I was rushed to hospital last Friday it was because I wanted to end everything. I wanted to die..." Bucky explained, wiping his hand down his face. "I couldn't handle Becca's death, my dad's abuse, everything I'd done to Steve, my mom's death and then watching the horrors of war unfold, to then lose my arm and feel like my whole life had been turned upside down. I can't remember the last time I smiled because of something I did, or something someone else did. All my smiles are fake. My personality is starting to come back, but I can't truly smile. I want to smile again like I used to when everything was okay. I want to slow down on this drinking habit so I don't wind up back in hospital or six foot under," he wavered.

Steve let out a pained whine as he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop crying. The fact that Bucky hadn't properly smiled tore him apart and Steve could feel anger boil up inside him because of Bucky's dad.  _Why would he do such a thing to a boy who didn't do anything wrong?_

"Bucky I am so, _so_ sorry for your loss," Natasha wept, sniffling loudly. "I think-" she paused. "I think we'll finish this session for today, everything you told us Bucky, it's the first step to getting better. We're here for  _you,_  but you have to be here for  _us_  too," she continued. 

"I will, I promise, I'll be here for all of you," Bucky answered.

"Everyone will probably stay for a while to talk, but you can go home if you'd like. Whatever makes you feel comfortable," Natasha offered.

"I think that'd be good. I just want to go home," Bucky muttered.

He stood from his chair, straightening his clothes and wiping away tears, giving Pietro's hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. 

"It was nice to meet all of you. I'll see you all again, I promise. I'd like to be friends with every single one of you, as much as it scares me, wondering if you'll all be okay. But I'll get through this, and I-I'll need friends, to get by, and I think you're all wonderful people even though we've just met," he issued.

Wanda was in tears as she sprang forward and hugged Bucky tightly, reassuring him with gentle whispers in her native tongue. 

"Please look after yourself," Pietro said, his face grave with concern. 

"Yeah, don't bail on us now big guy," Rumlow hummed, standing up to give Bucky a brief side hug. 

The comforting touches warmed Bucky's heart in that moment. Being back from war for so long without affection or the feeling of being wanted had made him wonder if he'd ever experience it again. Now he was and Bucky knew that with the people surrounding him, he'd make it out alright. All he needed was to patch things up with Steve, something he so desperately wanted for years now. 

"I'll be here bright and early tomorrow, I swear," Bucky assured them.

He stopped by Natasha to give her a hug, earning a kiss on the cheek from her too when they pulled away.

"You can call me any time after hours if you feel like you need someone to talk to. But if I'm busy sleeping because of this little jellybean, you can talk to Clint," she said, patting her bump again.

Bucky nodded with a smile. 

"Thank you," he replied, crouching down again close to Natasha's bump. "I'll see you later, traitor," he ground out, earning more laughter from Natasha. 

After saying his goodbyes to everyone else in the group and grabbing their numbers, he ventured out to the main lobby again. It was quiet that time though, so Bucky could only guess Peter had left to attend to another job. 

"Bucky," a shaky voice choked.

The brunette jumped, startled from the voice as he turned his head, eyes widening immediately. Steve was still leaning back against the door, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other tilted up as his hand rested against his mouth. Bucky's eyes travelled down him in one clean sweep, the heat crawling up the back of his neck.  _Just take me to my grave already_  he thought, casting his eyes over the red Henley again. Bucky had a thing for people dressed in Henley's. Yet his thoughts were jarred when he saw left over evidence of tears in Steve's eyes, the baby blue eyes dark and watery, red rimmed around the edges, not to mention the tear stains on his cheeks. Realisation hit Bucky as he ran a hand through his hair. Steve had heard everything he'd just said about his life and it had obviously struck a nerve in him. 

"Hey Steve," Bucky croaked out, a frown crossing his brow at his own voice.

What he didn't expect next was to be encased by a pair of strong arms, his body going rigid at the contact. Of all the people to hug him now, it had to be Steve and Bucky didn't think he deserved it. He tried to gently wriggle free from the hold but Steve only held him closer, and tighter, chin resting on top of Bucky's head.

"It's not your fault Bucky. None of it...you hear me?" he demanded.

_Was that anger laced in Steve's voice? Why was he angry? Was he angry at Bucky?_  It caused a shudder to rake through Bucky's body, his arms still hanging by his side. 

"I'm so sorry. If I'd have known...if I'd have known I would have helped you. It's not your fault for wanting to take your pain out on me, it's not. I realise now...you didn't want to hurt me because I liked you. You only wanted to hurt me because you too were breaking apart inside. Please don't feel sorry...I forgive you...I forgive you," Steve whispered.

Bucky cracked, the final string he was hanging on to snapped and so did he. Tears welled in his eyes as he shakily brought his arms up and around Steve, seeking the comfort, the security. He cried to himself, biting down on his trembling lip as he sucked in a breath, before breaking out into hushed sobs. His fingers curled into the fabric of Steve's Henley, his head against the blonde's chest. The hug was so much more different to the hug he'd first gotten from Natasha. Steve's warmth, his embrace...it felt like the first step to redemption, the first step to turning over a new page and starting over. All the years of trying to track Steve down, and there he was, close, too close perhaps, but Bucky savoured it while it lasted. But his brain always acted before his heart and Bucky found himself diving straight back into the deep void and falling.

"Please don't forgive me, I don't deserve it," he mumbled, into Steve's shoulder. "Please don't..." he begged, as he felt his hands shake with anxiousness. 

Steve pushed Bucky back, his hands on the brunette's shoulders, gripping tightly.

"The past is the past for a reason," he stated.

Bucky shook his head.

"I can't let go...n-not yet," he stammered, brushing away his ridiculous flood of tears.

"Then let me help you...please Bucky," Steve pleaded, pushing a strand of hair behind Bucky's ear.

_You don't deserve Steve's friendly touches, you don't deserve_   _anything_ he said to himself.Yet he'd said so himself that he wanted to heal, he wanted to heal the wounds he'd caused on Steve. He had to try...he had to. 

"What did you have in mind?" he answered, tilting his head to look up at Steve. 

Steve's eyes lit up at that, a sense of relief washing over him from the panic that had set in when he'd offered his support. He wanted to make Bucky see that they could try and rekindle something that didn't resemble their tense past. Bucky stared back at the bright blue swirls, eyes darting down Steve's face. He was better to gaze upon up close, the beard starting to grow on his face trimmed neatly, hair swept back, still slick with hair gel. The pounding heartbeat in Bucky's chest didn't subside even as he averted his gaze from Steve for a brief moment.  _Why do you have to be like this?_  he thought. The blonde's hands fell from his shoulders as Steve reached into his pocket to grab his wallet and pull out a card. It had two empty slots on it, the others stamped with a coffee cup icon, the second empty slot displaying that a free coffee was offered.

"Cup of coffee?" he suggested, smiling shyly.

Bucky couldn't help himself. A full blown laugh tumbled out his mouth as he felt tears in his eyes again, but they weren't bad ones, they were good. They fell down his cheeks and he keeled over, hands resting on his knees. By then Steve had started laughing too, his throat still watery from his own tears but his hand fell across his left pec and Bucky burst into fits again. 

"Left boob grab really Steve?" he cackled, clutching his arm around his ribs. "Okay...okay," he panted. "Wow, I've never laughed that much," he snickered.

"It wasn't even that funny!" Steve protested.

"No, but it was adorable," Bucky blurted out.

Steve's cheeks were rosy in an instant and Bucky fumbled his sentences, trying to laugh it off as if he was kidding around. But  _god damn_  he meant it, he  _really_  did. 

"Coffee sounds great," he drawled, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Awesome, I know this little place, it's back in Brooklyn though, if you don't mind driving back there," Steve replied.

"I was heading home anyway, so it's no big deal," Bucky chuckled, with a shrug.

He caught Steve's gaze again, fleeting moments that seemed to pass when one of them looked away or made an awkward gesture to move. Bucky nodded his head to the side and grinned kindly.

"Should we go?" he uttered, quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, shit, yeah. Sorry, zoned out, sorry I swore," the blonde apologised.

"Steve, you don't have to watch your language around me. I swear like a motherfuckin' sailor," Bucky snorted.

Steve laughed as they began to make their way out of the lobby and out into the now cooler atmosphere of the city. Bucky sighed in relief, he'd had enough of the heat, even though it was his own fault for wearing black. Himself and Steve went their separate ways because Bucky had to fetch his car a few blocks down. He did however, peer back over his shoulder, watching Steve straddle his Harley, his Henley riding up a little. The brunette flushed bright red and shook his head as he walked quicker to his car, trying to keep his breathing stable. Hopefully he didn't crash his car on the way there thinking about Steve and his stupid fucking Henley.  _They should be illegal. I'll sue!_  Bucky thought. When he eventually made it to his car he slumped against it, having to take a breather, the tingling feeling of Steve's arms around him still prickling his skin. 

* * *

**Brooklyn**

**6pm**

They found themselves in a corner coffeeshop called _FitzSimmons_ not too far from the beach, and not too far from Coney Island either. The booths were welcoming, plush and Bucky felt himself sinking into the seats. Steve was sitting across from him, his fingers curled around his coffee cup as he glanced out of the window. Bucky couldn't help but watch him while he sipped at his coffee, smiling into the cup at how the setting sun lightened his face. He could hear the owners, who he came to know as Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, which answered his questioned about the name of the coffeeshop. Fitz had a brilliant Scottish accent and Bucky was fawning over it immediately as soon as he walked in the door, making Steve laugh at the brunette. Simmons was friendly and very,  _very_  chatty and kept asking questions about who Bucky was to Steve, to which Steve said a friend and Bucky said an old acquaintance. 

The blush that crossed Bucky's face when Steve stared at him in bewilderment made him want to crawl in a fucking hole and wilt away. He'd forgotten that Steve had offered to be his friend, despite their past, yet he tried not to think about that too much. The bitter taste of coffee on his tongue was soothing, as was the sweet taste of a giant cookie they decided to share. Steve gave Bucky the free coffee and bought his own and the cookie, even at Bucky's protest, it'd save a few dollars for his bills anyway. He was far too busy tapping his fingers on the cup to the music playing from the stereo in the corner of the room to notice that Steve wasn't looking out of the window anymore. Steve was watching him intently, his eyelids dropping slightly from exhaustion, his long lashes brushing against his cheekbones. Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, drawing his bottom lip in to bite on it, as he usually did. 

"Is your coffee okay?" Steve queried, tilting his head slightly.

"It's perfect, best coffee I've ever had," Bucky chimed. 

Steve couldn't hold back the smile that crossed his face, nodding briefly before looking back down at his coffee. 

"I wanna' ask you somethin' Buck," he mumbled, looking back up to meet Bucky's blue-grey eyes.

"Shoot," Bucky answered, smiling reassuringly. 

"The tattoo...on your arm. Why'd you get it?" he asked.

"I have a lot of tattoos pal, you'll need to be more specific," Bucky chuckled.

"The one with my dog tag and the paintbrush," Steve confirmed.

"Oh," Bucky exhaled.

"You don't have to tell me yet, I'll understand," Steve replied.

"No, no it's not that I don't want to..." the brunette sighed. "I'm tryin' figure out how to explain it," he added.

"How about you start with when you got it," the blonde hummed.

Bucky flashed a sad smile, resting his right hand on his left, running his thumb over the lines of the metal. He'd taken his leather jacket off when they'd arrived at the coffeeshop, now exposing his tattooed arm and the metal arm up to where the sleeves of his shirt started. Bucky's entire right arm was covered in tattoos ranging from skulls to a steampunk themed section on his arm, as well as the one for Steve. Yet they all seemed to join together and work well, so not to look like a complete disaster.

"It was obviously after I got back from the military, and after I got my prosthetic," he spoke, running his metal hand up to the tattoo Steve was asking about. "I found your tags after prom when the clean up was happening. I kept them because I knew you'd already left, so I was going to keep them until the weekend and come and find you. Then I found out you'd moved out, that you were jetting off to London. I can't deny that I wasn't devastated Steve...because I was," he continued.

"Bucky-" Steve paused, seeing Bucky raise his hand to stop him talking.

"I realised how much I'd hurt you and I wanted to come and say that I was sorry. It hurt to know you'd left thinking I hated you because I didn't Steve. I really liked you. I thought you were great. I was just a messed up kid and I am so  _fucking_  sorry for everything I did to you. You didn't deserve it. It bothered me for so many years but I kept the dog tags and I never took them off, ever. After I was discharged from the army I went straight back home to Brooklyn and got myself a job. Once I had my apartment, my car, I saved up for tattoos and I got this one done first," he explained, running his thumb over the dog tag part of the tattoo. "I knew how amazing you were at art. I saw all your artwork whenever it went up in the gallery. So I put more thought into the tattoo and got the paintbrush with the paint done. I got it because I felt like if I couldn't say sorry to you, I could say sorry by interpreting a part of you, onto my body somewhere in an artistic sense, because you loved art so much. It put my mind at ease. But I still kick myself sometimes for being such a dick to you. I never meant to hurt you as badly as I did Stevie..." he muttered.

Steve's eyes widened at his nickname being used again, although this time it sounded soft and not harsh. It'd been a long time since he'd heard that name, the urge to reach out and hug Bucky again was growing, but Steve refrained. He couldn't take his eyes off Bucky, not for a second, seeing the regret, the guilt and the pain show in Bucky's eyes. 

"I forgive you..." he repeated, like he had over an hour ago.

"Steve I said-" Bucky faltered.

"I know what you said, but I don't want to not forgive you. It's been years Buck,  _years._  You've been to hell and back, I understand. I'm  _willing_  to understand. I'm here for you. Not as a doctor, as a friend, like I keep saying. I'm not seeing you in that damn ER room again I swear to you," he hissed.

"Your kindness hasn't changed Steve," Bucky mused.

"Don't get anywhere without it," Steve murmured.

"Y'know, I used to wonder if I could ever be as kind as you. I guess that flew out the window when I started bullying you. Now I try to be kind to everyone, no matter what," the brunette issued.

"I believe you," the blonde assured him. 

Silence fell and Bucky found himself looking back out at the sun setting over the horizon, the sky lighting up in orange, yellow, purple and red. His hand aimlessly ran up to the tags around his neck as he unclipped the chain and pulled Steve's tags off. He sat them down on the table and pushed them back over to Steve, before folding his arms over each other and leaning on the table.

"You should have those back, they are yours after all," he chimed, tilting his head to the side as he scraped his metal fingers in his stubble briefly.

The blonde's gaze fell on the tags, before he reached out and picked them up, stroking his fingers over them. Bucky smiled and looked down at the table, sneaking another sip of his coffee to finish it off. Then he glanced back up when he heard Steve shuffle in his seat, eyes flickering with confusion.

"Give me your hand," Steve ordered.

"Why?" Bucky asked.

"Just do it," Steve soothed.

So Bucky did, extending his right hand out to Steve as the tags were dropped back into his hand. Bucky frowned, until Steve's hand pressed against his fingers and closed them around the tags. His hand remaining, making Bucky's chest flutter with a feeling he hadn't felt for a long time. The touch was gentle, cautious as if Steve knew how much Bucky lacked from feeling touch. 

"I want you to keep them," Steve crowed.

"Steve I can't," he protested.

"Please," Steve pleaded. "Please keep them safe...for me," he added.

Bucky blushed but rested his thumb against Steve's knuckles, floundering over Steve's dopey smile plastered on his face.

"Alright..." he whispered, retracting his hand from Steve's slowly.

"I suppose I better get home, I have  _a lot_  of paperwork to get through," Steve huffed.

"Oh really?" Bucky answered, voice laced with disappointment. 

"Unfortunately, this is what happens when you decide to become a doctor," Steve laughed, running his thumb across his chin.

The need to look away didn't come Bucky's way, and he found himself watching the gesture, Steve's delicate fingers trailing through the coarse hairs. Maybe it was a good idea that they parted ways there, and now. There was always that part of Bucky that wanted to burst out and say  _'don't go',_  because at the end of the day he always went home to an empty house. The group session was a true eye opener for him, realising that surrounding himself with people who understood his fight with alcohol, understood his story, he needed that. Loneliness would only cripple him and send him into another downward spiral. 

"Actually I suppose I better get back home I have work at seven, crap," he cursed, grabbing his leather jacket.

"Oh, where do you work?" Steve questioned, standing up from his seat.

"As a bartender at a bar and bistro," he uttered, shrugging his jacket on.

"Are you sure that's a good place to be working considering-" he stopped, seeing the sudden flicker of hurt on Bucky's face. "Sorry I didn't mean-I-" he stammered.

"I get what you meant," Bucky grunted, his jaw clenching slightly. 

_Fuck, Steve you idiot_  the blonde thought.

"Bucky I'm sorry," he said.

"Save it," Bucky snapped, slapping a few dollars on the table as a tip. "Thanks for the coffee," he mumbled, pushing past Steve roughly.

"Buck! Bucky wait!" Steve called, grabbing his keys and wallet. "Fucking fuck my life, you absolute prick," he growled.

He waved goodbye to Fitz and Jemma, before dashing out of the coffeeshop after Bucky. His eyes clocked the brunette walking quickly to his car, pulling his keys out of his pocket to unlock his car.

"Bucky just stop for a second!" he yelled.

But Bucky ignored him completely.

"Buck," he panted out, grabbing Bucky's arm.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Bucky exclaimed, slapping Steve's hand away from him. "Fuck you Steve! Don't you engage your brain before you speak! You don't know what it's like to constantly be asked that question when people find out about my drinking problem!  It took me a long time to convince my boss Nick to let me work there! Luckily he's a man with a soft spot for people who have served for the country because he himself did too, so did his grandfather, so I'm working there. I'm capable of serving drinks to people without feeling the urge to sit in the back room and down a bottle of vodka or scotch. Fuck you for thinking of me in that way you jackass! Fuck you! Fuck you! FUCK YOU!" he screamed, the upset clear in his voice, hands shoving Steve back harshly.

"I said I was sorry I wasn't thinking right!" the blonde shouted, feeling his chest tighten with guilt.

"Fuck off and leave me alone!" Bucky snarled, forcefully opening the car door before getting inside. 

His car roared to life and Bucky didn't waste anymore time in getting the hell away from his so called friend. Steve could have sworn he saw tears in Bucky's eyes and that only made him feel ten times worse. He'd stabbed Bucky right in the heart with his idiotic comment. As soon as Bucky had disappeared into the streets, Steve ran his hands through his hair and down his face, letting out an irate noise of anger at himself. 

"Fucking idiot!" he swore, storming over to his Harley. 

He kicked the back wheel in frustration and dropped down to the curb, sitting on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees. His breathing was shaky as he tried to calm himself down, chest heaving irregularly, heart racing and hands shaking in turn. Steve pulled out his phone and sent a message to Tony, knowing he'd be at home right now.

_I need a favour - S_

Tony replied seconds later.

_What's the matter sweetcheeks? - T_

Steve couldn't hold back his weak laugh, himself and Tony always threw pet names at each other and joked around.

_Can you help me with the paperwork? It's a mouthful, and...I need someone to talk to I've done something pretty terrible - S_

_Come on over babe, I've got no plans, I've got beer and pizza x - T_

_You're a lifesaver, sugar x - S_

_Oh don't I know, come on, haul ass gorgeous - T_

_I'll be there in twenty - S_

The blonde gave himself a few more minutes to calm himself until he was fit to drive, not wanting to be the cause of an accident on the way to Tony's with careless driving. However, the guilt remained and Steve wished he'd grabbed Bucky again to try and get him to stay, to reason with him. How the tables had turned.

* * *

**Manhattan**

**Saturday 1st August**

**7pm**

_Fury's Bar and Bistro_  was bustling with customers in the early hours of Saturday evening. After busy weeks of work, locals were filing in for much needed rest and relaxation. Music circulated through the entire room, playing from a small stereo, a couple of guitars set up on the stage for anyone who wanted to participate in the karaoke night that happened every Saturday night. The atmosphere of the bistro was rustic with some hints of a fifties diner thrown in such as the neon signs and vinyl records on the walls. It'd been Steve's idea when he'd heard extremely excellent reviews about it and opted to take everyone there. And by everyone, he meant his full gang of friends, which looked like a bit of a sausage fest or frat boy party. 

Tony, Steve, Bruce, Scott, Sam, Rhodey, Clint, Thor, Loki and Peter were all sitting around a circular table, empty beer bottles and scotch and vodka glasses strewn in the middle. Their dinner plates were cleared just twenty minutes ago, yet they were told they could hang around for as long as they wanted, which is when a tab on the alcohol started. Loki and Thor were just finishing off the horror story of their rehearsal, sending everyone into absolute hysterics, their laughter loud and hearty. Steve finished off his third beer, before deciding he wanted something different, yet waited until everyone else looked like they were almost done. 

"So Steve, how's your man going?" Scott asked, after the laughter died down.

Steve rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"He's not  _my_  man," he answered. "Besides, we kind of hit square one again with the friendship," he added.

"What?" Tony gasped, sounding genuinely shocked. "What the hell happened?" he questioned.

"I said somethin' really stupid," Steve muttered.

Sam frowned at him.

"And what was it you said?" he inquired.

"I went to see him at the AA group and then I shouted him coffee. Anyway, we were there and then I said I should probably go home, he had to go to work anyway. So I asked him where he worked and he told me he worked at a bar and bistro and me, the fuckin' asshole that I am...asked him if workin' there was such a good idea," Steve explained. 

Everyone around the table let out a collective round of groans, Bruce's head falling into his hands and Sam tilted his head back with a palm to his forehead. Steve knew he'd fucked up pretty badly that day and hadn't forgiven himself since.

"Steve, have I taught you nothin' man, that's a one way ticket to  _'you're a dick don't talk to me again'_  city," Sam grumbled.

"He ate all my pizza and drank all my beer whining about this when he came over last night," Tony commented.

Steve blushed with embarrassment. 

"I know! I know," he blonde mumbled. "He made it pretty clear, I mean he said  _'fuck you'_  five times in the one lecture," he added.

Loki crowed with a  _'O'_  shape to his lips. 

"You've very much upset him darling," he issued.

"Yeah I know, and I'm afraid to text or call in case I get the same reaction again. I just hope he's alright," Steve sighed.

"He says, staring off into the distance thinking  _'when will my husband return from the war?'_ ," Tony chided.

Everybody broke out into fits of laughter again and Steve smirked and shook his head.

"Fuck off Tony," he scoffed, putting his beer bottle beside the rest. "Alright, I'm getting more drinks, anyone want another?" he queried.

"Another!" Thor cheered, raising his glass while Loki frantically reached for his hand.

"Don't you dare, the last time you did that you broke a glass you fool," he spat.

"I'm game for another one," Clint interjected.

"Same here I'm up for another," Rhodey added.

"How about I just get everyone another one?" Steve offered, sarcastically. 

Cheers erupted from all of them and Steve laughed as he stood up from his seat, fixing his shirt while he was at it. It felt amazing to unwind, relax for the weekend and to go out and enjoy the company of friends. Everyone had dressed so smartly for the occasion, which Steve didn't see very often because they usually went to casual little diners on Saturdays. Steve himself had settled for a black button up, the first two buttons undone and crimson red slacks. He was the only guy who could pull off crimson red slacks out of everyone in the group. 

The blonde made his way up to the bar, weaving between a few more tables before finally reaching it. Whoever had been attending to the bar before must have clocked off because someone new was there with his hair tied into a loose ponytail. Steve fished out his wallet and pulled out a few bills, before leaning against the bar. He traced his finger in the groove of the timber bar, aimlessly not paying attention to everything around him. Steve hadn't even noticed the bartender turning around to serve him..

"What can I get you pal?" the bartender spoke.

Steve's hand froze as he laid it flat out on the bar now, tilting his head up to meet a familiar face. Bucky, looked just as stunned as him, his eyes widened, before he scowled, picking up a tea towel from beside him. They stared for what felt like hours until the staring contest became too much and Bucky broke the silence.

"Oh, it's you," he murmured, wiping down the bar.

"Buck. You work here?" Steve asked.

"No I'm just standing behind the bar giving drinks out to people," he answered, sarcastically.

Steve sighed deeply and ran his hand down his face, leaning his elbow on the bar and resting his chin on his hand.

"Look Bucky, I'm sorry about yesterday. What I said was really judgemental of me," he said.

"You think? Steve you've got no idea how much that tore me to hear that from you buddy. I thought I could trust in you, I thought you were my friend," Bucky uttered. 

_Alright, that hurt a lot._

"I am your friend," Steve breathed out.

"You sure? Because last time I checked, friends don't judge someone by their problems," Bucky laughed, weakly.

"I didn't judge you Bucky, I didn't mean to say that. It was stupid, I'm an asshole, I get it. And I'm sorry. I'm really,  _really_  sorry. I don't want you to forgive me straight away. But please...don't throw my help away. Come on, you're really important to me, you always have been," Steve assured him.

Bucky's gaze met Steve's again, his palms resting on the edge of the metal ice bucket. He gave Steve a once over, seeing the almost pleading look in Steve's eyes, which looked sad and full of guilt. The brunette bit his lip and pushed himself away from the counter, rubbing his hand on his jeans. 

"What can I get you?" he questioned. 

"Can I get two scotches, three vodkas and five beers," Steve mused.

"Manners Rogers, where are they?" Bucky teased, shooting a small smile over his shoulder.

The blonde chuckled and pushed the dollar bills in Bucky's direction, relaxing against the counter now. And of course his eyes had to dart down to Bucky's ass in those stupidly tight jeans.  _Bastard_  Steve thought. 

"You look great by the way," he complimented.

"Do I?" the brunette snorted, glancing over his shoulder again. 

"Honest to god truth," he replied.

"Charmer," Bucky huffed out, pursing his lips as he popped all the lids off the beers in under ten seconds flat.

"Wow, impressive," Steve gushed.

Bucky shrugged.

"You learn things," he crowed.

Steve smiled sheepishly, as he looked back at his friends at the table who were all staring at him. He frowned and shook his head at them but they all started making love hearts with their hands, making kissing noises and making lewd gestures. The blonde shook his head and looked away from them, appalled at how childish his friends were sometimes, but grinning nonetheless. 

"What are you grinning at?" Bucky interrupted, dragging him from his own little world.

"Just my friends being idiots," the blonde scoffed, watching Bucky pour two scotches at the same time and then the three vodkas. "Christ, you're good at that," he added.

"Like I said-" Bucky paused, passing the beers up to Steve, his fingers trailing down the necks of the bottles. "You learn things," he said, his voice a hushed tone. 

Whether he was flirting just then or not, Steve couldn't really tell, but he flushed a light shade of pink, regardless. He could hear everyone back at the table letting out low whistles and catcalling, Steve's eyes narrowing in annoyance. Bucky smirked and looked over at the table, waving at Tony, Bruce, Scott, Clint, Sam, Rhodey and Peter, who waved back as enthusiastically as anything. 

"Who are the two next to Clint?" he quizzed.

"Oh, um, the blonde is Thor and his brother with the black hair, that's Loki," Steve answered.

"Brothers? They don't look it," he hummed.

"Loki's adopted," Steve uttered.

" _Ah_...well, he certainty gets his good genes from someone. He's a looker alright," Bucky purred.

Steve spluttered on his scotch, the burn scraping his throat as he grabbed a tissue to wipe his mouth, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. 

"What?" he rasped. 

"Well look at him, he's got nice green eyes, I mean those cheekbones, you could cut a cake on them. Is he British? He gives off that vibe. Those pretty little lips too. But Thor, damn, he's built, I wonder what he's like without clothes. Hm, what a man to be under, I should be under that table right now," the brunette complained, pouting a little.

All Steve could do was gawk at Bucky. He was laying it in thick and Bucky was complimenting his friends and staring at them like prized possessions. Bucky smiled mischievously, loving the thought of completely stirring the pot to see Steve's reactions. 

"Sam though," he continued, exhaling heavily. "I'd love me a piece of that," he added.

Steve whimpered meekly and dropped the chips he'd picked up from the bowl beside him, feeling the need to go crawl in a cave and stay there. 

"Or Tony. Y'know, if he weren't with Bruce. I'd be seeing what that goatee is like on bare skin," Bucky spoke, tilting his head to the side. "Fuck, maybe I should just have all of them," he continued.

"Alright! Alright, cut that out," Steve groaned, dropping his head in his head. "Your payback is cruel," he grumbled.

Bucky grinned.

"Payback is a bitch Stevie," he taunted, taking the bills off the counter and walking down to the till.

"I can make it up to you," Steve offered.

"Oh?" he breathed.

"Karaoke. I'll sing somethin' for your entertainment," the blonde boasted.

The brunette sauntered back and gave Steve his change, before placing the drinks on a tray. 

"Go on then, I dare you," he challenged. "I'll take these drinks to your buddies," he issued.

"Challenge accepted," the blonde gloated.

"But before you go up there, rules are, three songs, two have to be taken seriously, one has to be ridiculous, whether it be from a movie or something or a one hit wonder or something. They don't need to be in order from serious to not serious. Had some guy in here last week who was singing _'Never Gonna' Give You Up'_ so badly," Bucky chortled, swiping the tray up expertly on his arm.

"I can do that," Steve crooned, pointing his finger at Bucky. "What's your three favourite movies, in the entire world?" he asked.

"Uh-I-" Bucky stopped, his cheeks going cherry red.

"Come on, spit it out," Steve demanded.

"Top Gun," Bucky confessed.

"And?" Steve pressed on.

"Aladdin," Bucky admitted.

Steve sneered.

"You like Disney?" he cooed, grinning widely.

"Yeah, I guess," Bucky mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Cute," the blonde laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "What else?" he soothed.

"Don't really have a third," the brunette replied, feeling the heat crawl up his neck.

"Come on, pick a band then, any band," Steve jeered.

"Fine, I really liked Green Day in high school and still do," Bucky answered.

With a pleased nod, Steve sculled the rest of his scotch and propped the glass back onto the bar. He moved off the stool and wandered in the direction of the stage where the karaoke set up was. Bucky watched him in wonderment, getting a better look at his attire, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.  _Stop it_  he told himself. He walked out from behind the bar with the tray and worked his way around tables to reach the one Steve's friends were sitting at, Tony's eyes lighting up when he saw Bucky.

"Bucky!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

"Hey fellas," Bucky greeted, smiling warmly.

"Listen to him isn't he sweet!" Tony snickered. 

"I've got all your drinks here, so I'll just dump them here and grab those empty ones to put on the tray," Bucky informed.

"No problem man," Sam spoke.

"I do not believe we have met," Thor piped up, his attention falling on Bucky.

"No, I don't think we have. How are you darling? I'm Loki," the younger sibling introduced.

"Hi, I'm fine, what about you? Enjoying yourself?" Bucky questioned.

"Absolutely," Loki purred.

Bucky couldn't help but blush again, which he couldn't keep under control.

"Hey where's Steve?" Scott murmured, looking at the empty seat at the table.

"He's up there," Bucky mused, pointing to the stage.

"Steve's gonna' sing! Oh boy! Buck-o, he'll have you weak at the knees, he's a great singer," Tony said.

"I'll be sure to listen while I'm back at the bar. Was nice to see you all again," the brunette drawled, before retreating back to the bar. 

Steve was flicking through the song lists and picking out three songs in the order he was going to sing them in. He caught Bucky's movement out of the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth curving up into a grin. If there was one way for Steve to lighten people's moods it was by singing. He'd taken up singing as well as guitar playing after his time in London, needless to say all his friends wanted him to sing at almost every party they had or every karaoke night they had. The blonde turned around, grabbing the mic and one of the guitars, taking a deep breath in as he usually did to rile himself up for singing.

"Hey everybody," he spoke, gaining a majority of the bistro's patron's attention.

Of course all his friends started cheering, making him shake his head with a smile.

"So I got told we have to sing three songs, two serious, one not so serious. I've got all my songs picked, first one serious, second not serious, third the other serious one. Now all of these songs are for the wonderful bartender, Bucky, working over at the bar there," he continued, winking at Bucky, who ducked his head in return.

"Get on with it!" Tony jested, earning a mock frown from the blonde.

From the bar, Bucky watched Steve while he wiped down the bar again, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face. He picked up a glass and began cleaning it as the familiar tune of Danger Zone started playing. The glass almost fell from his hand when he saw that Steve was working his fingers on the guitar like a fucking pro. Every time someone picked one up they had little or no experience and it made for a very strange night. But  _oh no,_  Steve was a natural and Bucky swallowed thickly as he put the glass down beside him. Then Steve had to start singing and Tony was right, his knees did go weak.

_"Revvin' up your engine. Listen to her howlin' roar. Metal under tension. Beggin' you to touch and go,"_

His voice was raw and rich, laced with the thickness of whipped cream, eyes half lidded as he continued on with playing the guitar. 

_"Highway to the Danger Zone. Ride into the Danger Zone. Headin' into twilight. Spreadin' out her wings tonight. She got you jumpin' off the deck. And shovin' into overdrive,"_

_God,_  it was too much for Bucky. 

_"Highway to the Danger Zone. I'll take you right into the Danger Zone,"_

Bucky listened for the build up where the guitar solo was, as if he might hear a slip up. How wrong he was. 

_"They never say hello to you. Until you get it on the red line overload. You'll never know what you can do. Until you get it up as high as you can go,"_

The cheers from Steve's table when he slayed the guitar solo was immense, a few of them standing up to encourage him further. Steve grinned happily and stole a glance at Bucky who was staring at him with a completely shocked look on his face. Or it was more so Bucky's brain was fried and the only thing was keeping him alert was the interest rising in his fucking jeans.  _Why did I wear these tight jeans. Dammit, dammit!_  he thought. Bucky pressed himself against the counter, feeling the cold against the fabric of his jeans which seemed to fix the situation only slightly. He couldn't have those thoughts about Steve, not after everything, he felt wrong. 

_"Out along the edge. Is always where I burn to be. The further on the edge. The hotter the intensity,"_

He was  _damn_  near perfect and Bucky couldn't help but stare, catching Tony's eyes every now and again to see the smug smirk on the brunette's face. Maybe he had to be a little more aware of how he reacted to things Steve did. 

_"Highway to the Danger Zone. I'm gonna take you. Right into the Danger Zone. Highway to the Danger Zone._ _Right into the Danger Zone,"_  

Steve hit the high note in perfect tune, drawing the note out gracefully. He probably had a knack for nailing any sort of style of music. For some reason, it made Bucky want to hear more, just to see exactly what Steve was capable of. When the song drew to a close, Steve had the entire restaurant up from their seats in a standing ovation, a shy smile gracing his face. 

"He's got one set of lungs on him that's for sure," a voice mused.

Bucky jumped and turned to see his boss a Nick Fury standing in the doorway to the bar, leaning against the door frame. 

"Y-yeah, he does," he stammered, nervously wiping at the bar even though he'd wiped the same spot about five times already. 

"What's his next song?" Fury asked, with curiosity.

"God smite me now," Bucky whispered. "Something from Aladdin," he added.

A laugh fell out his boss' mouth which was a rare occurrence, but funny either way. 

"Well I'm lookin' forward to this," Fury replied.

Steve had discarded of the guitar and mic stand and was now simply standing with mic in his hand and his hand in his pocket. He looked casual and laid back, pursing his lips as he flicked the button for the next song. 

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Bucky laughed, palms resting on the counter as he shook his head.

_"Well Ali Baba had them forty thieves. Scheherezade had a thousand tales. But master you in luck 'cause up your sleeves. You got a brand of magic never fails. You got some power in your corner now. Some heavy ammunition in your camp. You got some punch, pizzazz, yahoo and how,"_

The blonde was prancing around the stage like a true entertainer, gesturing with his free hand and even putting effort into singing it exactly like it was in the movie. Bucky's hand came up to cover his mouth as he tried to hold back his laughter, his metal arm wrapping around his ribs. 

_"Mister Aladdin, sir. What will your pleasure be? Let me take your order.  Jot it down. You ain't never had a friend like me. Ha ha ha!"_

Even the accent changes were on point and if that was Steve's supposed not so serious song, then Bucky was beyond amazed. 

_"Life is your restaurant. And I'm your maître d'. C'mon whisper what it is you want. You ain't never had a friend like me,"_

He was captivating on stage and Bucky wondered why he hasn't settled for being a singer instead of a doctor. 

_"Yes sir, we pride ourselves on service. You're the boss. The king, the shah. Say what you wish. It's yours! True dish. How about a little more Baklava? Have some of column "A".  Try all of column "B". I'm in the mood to help you dude. You ain't never had a friend like me,"_

Now he was wandering to the front of the stage to face the audience. 

_"Can your friends do this?"_

Steve was dancing and man did he have moves. 

_"Can your friends do that? Can your friends pull this out their little hat? Can your friends go, Woo? Well, looky here. Can your friends go, Abracadabra, let 'er rip. And then make the sucker disappear?"_

Bucky used to hate karaoke nights, yet he was beginning to take it back now.

_"So doncha sit there slack jawed, buggy eyed. I'm here to answer all your midday prayers. You got me bona fide, certified. You got a genie for your chare d'affaires. I got a powerful urge to help you out. So what-cha wish? I really wanna' know. You got a list that's three miles long, no doubt. Well, all you gotta do is rub like so - and oh,"_

When Steve turned to face Bucky, he could feel all eyes on him, a nervous smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Then Steve was pointing at him and he might have wanted to run away, but not at the same time. 

_"Mister Aladdin, sir, have a wish or two or three. I'm on the job, you big nabob. You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend. You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend,"_

Steve jumped off the stage and started stalking towards him, eyes locked on Bucky's.

_"You ain't never had a friend like me,"_

Again he was hitting another high note and Bucky was basically floored. The blonde even threw in the joyous laugh as an extra.

_"You ain't never had a friend like me, hah!"_   


More clapping and cheering broke out, Bucky joining in too, finally letting himself relax a little. By then Nick had slipped away into the back room again. Steve was definitely making it up to him for what he'd said yesterday. Bucky himself also felt a little guilty for how he'd reacted, he'd probably humiliated Steve for all he knew. He sighed and watched Steve grabbing a chair, and one of the acoustic guitars before the next song came on. In his head, Bucky sifted through all of the acoustic songs Green Day had made and there weren't that many. He poured himself some water from the tap and took a swig, before resting his attention back on Steve. As Steve started to play the beginning, Bucky found himself drowning out everyone else around him and only focusing on Steve. 

_"Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test, and don't ask why. It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time,"_

Bucky's gaze shot over to the table Steve had been sitting at, Tony's face no longer painted with a smile, but a small hint of sympathy and sadness.

_"It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life,"_

_Oh_  Bucky thought.

_"So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind. Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time. Tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial. For what it's worth it was worth all the while. It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life,"_

He saw the emotion in Steve's face as he played the solo, the backing track coming in with a violin piece. Then there was  _one_  single tear rolling down Steve's left cheek and Bucky felt his heart clench, his lips parted with a soft gasp in tow. Bucky maybe even let a stray tear fall down his own cheek from the  _'pulling at your heartstrings'_  song, which he wiped away quickly in frustration.  _You're at work Bucky get it together_  he scolded. 

_"It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life. It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life,"_

Bucky turned away when the song was finished, digging the palms of his hands into his closed eyes. The clapping never stopped and Bucky could hear watery  _'thank you's'_  from Steve and that only made him bite his lip so hard it might bleed.  _Stop it, stop it, stop it_  he thought, placing his hands on the edge of the counter. He'd always disliked tear jerker songs, but still listened to them anyway. Bucky ran his left hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with a choked breath puffing out of his clenched lungs. 

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?" Steve tested, appearing at the bar again. 

The brunette turned around after giving himself another moment, reaching out for another glass to pour some scotch in it for Steve.  _Dammit,_  Bucky looked suave in his uniform, Steve hadn't even fully noticed it all before, the grey shirt was great on his figure and the too tight jeans were distracting him again. 

"I gotta' hand it to ya' Steve, you were beyond what I expected," he answered, hiding away any evidence of his teary eyes.

"Really?" Steve questioned, leaning further across the bar. 

Steve's face was pretty close to Bucky's when he'd tilted his head up, a shaky smile on his face, before he looked back down to pour the scotch in the glass. Bucky could feel his heart drumming away in staccato beats, his hand reaching up to brush his hair away again. But Steve pulled it back from behind his ear and propped Bucky's chin up on the pad of his index finger.

"You didn't answer me Buck," he drawled, voice soft and velvety. 

"Really...you have a great voice," Bucky assured him, before pulling away from Steve abruptly. 

He handed Steve the scotch and ducked down under the counter to grab some more snacks to put on the bar.

"So I gotta' ask-" he started, dropping a bowl of olives onto the bar. "That last song, why'd you pick it?" he queried.

Steve smiled sadly, averting his eyes to his glass as he swirled the ice around in the glass.

"Fella' done me wrong," he murmured, taking a sip of the scotch.

Bucky nodded as he again wiped the bar down for the sixth time. 

"What happened?" he interrogated.

"Was just there for the income since I was working as a doctor by that time, in London. He was seeing other guys behind my back. So I got rid of him, y'know...good riddance," the blonde chided, with a smirk.

A sympathetic chuckle left Bucky's mouth. 

"You got lousy taste in men, Stevie," he joked, somewhat.

"There is one guy though, he's not so bad. Well, he has a long story to his life, he's a little reserved. Deep down he’s all kindness and charm, I can tell. Thing is, he’s not like anybody I’ve ever known. All my friends are outgoing all the time. And here comes this guy, spends his life avoiding everything he deserves because he thinks he doesn't deserve it," Steve reminisced. 

Bucky's gaze fell on Steve's, giving him a look that had so many questions without answers.  _Was Steve implying that it was him? Or someone else?_  Yet being Bucky, he knew he couldn't be the only complex person in Steve's life.  _Why the hell do you think it's you anyway you idiot?_  Bucky thought. 

"Sounds complicated, but nice," he mused.

"He's better than he knows," the blonde whispered. "So should I fight it or run with it?" he asked.

"Run with it I suppose, it's your life Steve. Unless this other guy has done something wrong to you?" the brunette uttered.

"Nope, not a damn thing. But I think I'll wait a little longer, make sure I'm certain about him," Steve hummed, popping an olive into his mouth. 

There it was, a stab of jealousy spiking in Bucky's blood as he gnawed on his lip and nearly knocked over a bottle of expensive whiskey. Steve raised a questioning eyebrow but Bucky shook it off. He didn't need to be jealous over Steve talking about some guy, albeit, it still stirred the jealousy around and  _around_  in slow motion circles. 

"Hey you two, you might want to cut down on the flirting, you'll burn the place up," Tony's voice interrupted.

"We weren't- _ha_ -we weren't flirting," Bucky protested.

"Don't give me that shit Barnes, Steve has three beers and he's ready to chase some tails," Tony tutted.

"Tony," Steve hissed, cheeks flushing crimson red.

"Steve you're almost going as red as your slacks," Tony laughed, nudging the blonde with his elbow. "Buck, sweet little sunshine, can I get another scotch and a beer for my boyfriend," he chimed.

"Oh so you and Bruce are a thing now?" Steve answered.

Tony gave a confirming nod and a wide grin at the pair of them.

"Well congratulations," Bucky replied, as he went about getting Tony's drinks. "Steve was just telling me about some guy he's got his eyes on," he added.

"Really now? I wonder who that could be," Tony crowed, sending Steve a scrutinising look. 

Bucky placed the beer up on the bar and turned back to Steve.

"I completely forgot, I wanted to ask you something," he said.

"Fire away," Steve replied.

"Logan, from the AA group, my friend I thought I'd lost in Afghanistan. He's having a fancy dress party on Wednesday. I was wondering if you'd like to come with me? Y'know, as my plus one?" he offered.

"Oh I-I think- _ow,_ " Steve groaned, rubbing his leg.

Tony had kicked him on the side of his leg, before scowling at him and shaking his head. It was one of those looks that said _'don't you fucking dare turn him down or I will kick your lily white ass'_ and those looks frightened Steve. His friend might be shorter and not so muscular as him, but Tony was as scary as Satan when he was angry.

"W-what I was going to say is...that sounds awesome. I don't have work on Wednesday. So I'd love to," Steve winced, feeling Tony's foot press on the bruise that was likely forming.

The brunette grinned wickedly.  _Tony you bastard_  Steve cursed to himself.

"Cool, I'll uh, text you the address and time and we can meet each other there, I'll be helping Logan set up all day so I hope that's okay," the brunette explained, propping the scotch up on the bar then.

"Fine, fine," the blonde croaked, still nursing the side of his leg. 

"Well, I'm heading back to the table, and then I'm going to get up on stage and sing some AC/DC and maybe when I'm drunk enough, some cheesy duets. Steve you with me, wingman?" Tony encouraged, handing Bucky some money and sliding a few bills into his front shirt pocket as a tip. "Spend it wisely kiddo," he warned, clucking his tongue and winking before scooting off the stool.

"Yeah be with you in a minute," Steve mumbled, munching on another olive to hide his embarrassment. "Sorry about him," he apologised.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Tony's sweet, he gave me a tip," Bucky chided, grinning from ear to ear.

"Just 'cause he likes you," the blonde scoffed.

"I'm his favourite person now," the brunette declared.

"Don't get your hopes up," Steve joked, smiling coyly. 

Bucky shrugged and poured more scotch into Steve's glass.

"Those two were on the house, for your  _exceptional_  singing," he praised, tongue poking out a little when he smiled.

Steve preened at that beaming smile.

"Golly gosh thank you Sergeant Barnes," he squeaked, in a high pitched voice.

Laughter filled the bar area and Steve could see Tony, Loki and Scott smirking like the shitheads that they were as they watched the pair from their table. But the sweet sound of Bucky's laughter calmed his nerves, the brunette's face scrunched up, hand on his stomach as well. He couldn't recall a time where he'd heard Bucky laugh in high school, sometimes he wished he'd had. 

"I'm gonna' go start singing again with Tony. I'll make sure I say goodbye before we go, but if your shift is over by then, I'll see you Wednesday," he confirmed.

"Countin' on it Steve," Bucky sang softly. "Oh and-" he paused, putting the tea towel down.

Steve froze when Bucky lent over and pressed his lips against his cheek, letting them stay for a moment, stubble brushing his cheek when he pulled away. Bucky clocked Tony and Scott nudging each other while wiggling their eyebrows, a smug look crossing his face. The blonde only sat their stunned, eyes like saucers, the feeling of Bucky's stubble and lips still tickling his cheek.

"That's forgiveness for yesterday, I know you're sorry," he whispered.

Steve's heart skipped a beat.

"I dig the beard you're starting by the way," he purred, before walking off to the back room to check the beer taps.

In that moment, Steve knew things were different now. The past was the past for reasons, just like he'd said himself. 

"Come on you loved up dog!" Tony called, earning snickers from the others around the table.

Steve only obeyed because he didn't know how else to react, his face still laced with surprise. Maybe he really  _did_  need to run with it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at: [x-crossbones-x](http://x-crossbones-x.tumblr.com/)


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